Uninvited Guests The captain was walking slowly across the paddocks with the cabbage-tree hat he kept for the garden pushed back from his brow.

He was rather heated after his tussle with his second son, and there was a thoughtful light in his eyes.

He did not believe the truth of Bunty's final remark, but still he considered there was sufficient probability in it to make a visit to the shed not altogether superfluous.
Not that he expected, in any case, to find his errant daughter there, for had not Bunty said there was a picnic down at the river?
But he thought, there might be some trace or other.
The door of the shed swung back on its crazy hinges, and the sunlight streamed in and made a bar of glorified dust across the place.
There was no sign of habitation here, unless a hair ribbon of Meg's and some orange peel, might be considered as such.
He saw the shaky, home-made ladder, resting against the hole in the ceiling, and though he had generally more respect for his neck than his children had for theirs, he ventured his safety upon it.

It creaked ominously as he reached the top step and crawled through into the loft.
There were a ham-bone, a box of dominoes, and a burst pillow this side of the partition, nothing else, so he walked across and looked over.
"Very cosy," he murmured, "I shouldn't mind camping here myself for a little time," and it even came into his head to do so, and be there as a "surprise party" when Judy returned.

But he dismissed the idea as hardly compatible with dignity.