"
Just about the time that we outgrew _Chick-seed_, and that it was
allowed on all hands that even for quiet country-folk with no learned
notions it was high time we were sent to school, our parents were spared
the trouble of looking out for a school for us by the fact that a school
came to us instead, and nothing less than an "Academy" was opened within
three-quarters of a mile of my father's gate.
Walnut-tree Farm was an old house that stood some little way from the
road in our favourite lane--a lane full of wild roses and speedwell,
with a tiny footpath of disjointed flags like an old pack-horse track.
Grass and milfoil grew thickly between the stones, and the turf
stretched half-way over the road from each side, for there was little
traffic in the lane, beyond the yearly rumble of the harvesting waggons;
and few foot-passengers, except a labourer now and then, a pair or two
of rustic lovers at sundown, a few knots of children in the blackberry
season, and the cows coming home to milking.
Jem and I played there a good deal, but then we lived close by.
We were very fond of the old place and there were two good reasons for
the charm it had in our eyes.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31