Finally the man, too, got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and then took it by the scruff of the neck and half-dragged and half threw it on the tombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched the stone the poor thing became quiet and fell to trembling. It did not try to get away, but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable state of terror that I tried, though without effect, to comfort it. Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, but looked at it in an agonised sort of way.

Same day,11 pm. Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it to-night. So that she would be too tired to sleep-walk, I took Lucy for a long stroll. We had a lovely walk. Lucy, after a while, was very cheerful, owing, I think, to some dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot everything except, of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had an excellent tea at Robin Hood’s Bay in a sweet little old-fashioned inn, with a bow-window right over the seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stops to rest.