The Hawthorns | Page 2

feats of horsemanship, and by the time the sermon was over
there was another story ready to be eagerly listened to by the other
children--and, indeed, believed also, for they had an infinite trust in
Pennie. This was partly because she was the eldest, and partly because
she "made up" so well, and had such good ideas about games and plans.
No one could make a better plan than Pennie if she put her mind to it,
and this was a valuable faculty, for toys were not plentiful at Easney
Vicarage, and the children had to find their own amusements. These,
fortunately, did not depend upon anything to be bought in shops, for
there was only one in the village, and that was the post-office too.
There you could get bacon, and peppermint drops, and coarse grey
stockings; but for anything more interesting you had to drive to
Nearminster, ten miles away. Mother went over there sometimes, and
took each child with her in turn, but even then there was a serious
drawback to buying much, and that was want of money.
Some children would doubtless think living at Easney a very dull affair.
No shops, nothing new to play with, and very little new to wear. Pennie
did get a little tired sometimes of always wearing serge in winter and
holland in summer; but neither she nor her brothers and sisters ever
found their lives dull. They would have been astonished at the idea.
There were so many interesting things to do. For instance, there was a
large family of pet beasts and birds, some living in the barn in cages,
and some free. Snuff the terrier was the most intimate and friendly of
these last, and Methuselah the tortoise the greatest stranger. The
children regarded him with respectful awe, for he passed so much of his
life hidden away in the cold dark earth, that he must know many
strange and wonderful things which went on there; but, like all people
of really wide experience, he was singularly modest and retiring in his
behaviour, and appeared on the border the first mild day in spring after
his disappearance, with no fuss at all, and as if he had done nothing
remarkable.
Pennie's jackdaw, a forward bird, who hopped about with an air of
understanding everything, was one day found perched on the tortoise's
shell with the evident intention of making some searching inquiries.

Methuselah, however, had very prudently drawn in his head, and Jack
was both baffled and disgraced.
Next to the animals in point of interest came the Wilderness. This was a
part of the garden shut off from the rest by a shrubbery, and given up to
the children as their very own. Here they messed and muddled to their
hearts' content, carried out a great many interesting designs, and reared
quantities of mustard and cress; once they each had a garden, but
Nancy, Ambrose, and David had lately struck out the bold idea of
joining their plots of ground and digging a well. It was a delightful
occupation, and when the hole got deep it was pleasant to see how the
small frogs and other slimy reptiles crawled about at the bottom; but,
after much heated labour, there were no signs of water. Interest flagged
then, and the well was deserted, until the ever-ready Pennie suggested
the game of Joseph and his brethren, and it became a favourite
amusement to lower Dickie down in a basket amongst the frogs and
newts. Dickie was both small and brave, two very necessary qualities
for her part, for the basket was narrow, and wobbled about a good deal
in its descent; but she was used to perilous positions, and had a soul
above fear.
The Wilderness was certainly very interesting; nevertheless at a certain
time in the summer it was completely forsaken, and that was when the
hay was down. Then everyone must help to get it in; and there could be
no lessons done, for even Miss Grey was in the hay-field. Then the
excited children, with flushed faces, worked as hard as though the
whole matter depended on them alone, and even Dickie, with tiny rake
and sturdy legs planted wide apart, did brave service. Then the maids,
with sun-bonnets tilted well forward on their foreheads, came out to
toss a little hay, and giggle a great deal, and say how hot it was; then
the surly Andrew threw sour looks of scorn at them, and the vicar,
casting aside his black coat, did more real work than anyone. Then
mother came into the field with Cicely in her arms, and was welcomed
with acclamations, and forthwith seated on a royal throne of hay; then,
under her watchful eyes, the ambitious Ambrose worked feverishly,
and threw his