You take the roundabout way through the garden, and the little path, behind the tool shed, and you just follow it until you can't go any farther, and there's the bluff.

I haven't been down myself, but Dan says there's a little path you take to the shore if you don't mind scrambling a bit." Kit waved good-bye to her and went in search of the path.

She found Dan, the gardener, raking up leaves in the back garden.

He was a plump rosy-cheeked old Irishman, his face wrinkled like a winter pippin, and he lifted his cap at her approach with a smile of frank curiosity and approval.
A half-grown black retriever came bounding to meet her, his nose and forepaws tipped with white.
"That's a welcome he's giving you you wouldn't have had if you'd been a boy, Miss," Danny said, shrewdly.

"I'm glad to meet you, and hope you'll like it here." Kit was stroking Sandy's silky curls.