I. A Trip into the Country
“It’s just possible that I may be home very early, perhaps in time for twelve o’clock lunch,” remarked Mr. Duwell, one Saturday morning as he was starting for business.
“Oh, wouldn’t that be fine!” exclaimed the children. “We’ll be looking for you.”
Even before the noon whistles had ceased blowing, three eager faces were peering out of the windows, for Mrs. Duwell was as interested as Ruth and Wallace.
“Oh, I do hope father will come soon!” exclaimed Ruth.
“I am sure to see him first,” said Wallace with a superior air. “I can see farther than you!”
“You can’t see father any better than I can,” replied Ruth, “for I see him this minute.”
“You do? Where?” asked Wallace.
“I certainly do—may I run to meet him, mother?”
“Oh, I see him!” cried Wallace. “I am going, too!”
“Yes, run!” said Mrs. Duwell. “You both have better eyes than I have.” Almost before she had finished speaking, the children were racing toward a carriage. As the driver drew rein, they climbed in.
“Well, here we are!” Mr. Duwell sang out, as they drove up in front of the door. “What does the Duwell family say to a ride this pleasant afternoon?”
“What a grand surprise!” called Mrs. Duwell, who was now standing on the top step.
“I am going to get an apple for the horse,” cried Wallace, and away he ran. In a moment he returned.
“How does that taste, old fellow?” he asked, rubbing the horse’s soft nose as he munched the apple.
“He isn’t really hungry,” said Mr. Duwell. “He had his dinner just before we left the livery stable, and the stable man gave me a bag of grain for his supper; but I guess he doesn’t often get apples.”
It didn’t take long to eat lunch that day, the family were so excited.
“Where are we going, father?” asked Wallace.
“Just into the country,” said Mr. Duwell. “It has been so long since we have seen the green fields that I thought a trip would do us all good.”
Soon they left the city streets behind, and came to a beautiful country road, along which they drove for several miles.
“Oh, see that funny-looking house!” exclaimed Ruth suddenly. “It looks like a cage!”
“That isn’t a house, yet,” said Mr. Duwell; “it is only the frame-work.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Wallace, “is that the way wooden houses are built?”
“It is, little city people,” replied Mr. Duwell. “No wonder you are not familiar with such a sight. City houses are not built of wood, because of the danger of fire.”
“I should like to see that house closer,” said Wallace.
“We’ll drive over there,” his father agreed, turning the horse’s head.
As they drew near, Wallace exclaimed, “Why, there’s Mr. Emerson on the porch; he is my teacher. I wonder what he is doing here.”
At that moment Mr. Emerson saw the boy. “Good afternoon, Wallace,” he said, lifting his hat and bowing to the party as he came toward the carriage.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Emerson,” said Wallace, lifting his cap; “I should like to have you meet my mother and father.”
Mr. Emerson bowed, and shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Duwell.
“And this is Wallace’s sister, Ruth,” said Mr. Duwell.
“I am glad to know you, Ruth,” Mr. Emerson said. “Are you thinking of moving into the country?” he asked after a minute. “If so; I hope you will be my neighbors.”
“Do you live here, Mr. Emerson?” asked Wallace.
“Not yet,” replied Mr. Emerson, smiling; “but we hope to when the new house is finished.”
“What a comfortable home it will be,” said Mr. Duwell.
Mr. Emerson looked pleased. “Won’t you come in and see the plan?” he asked.
“Thank you, we shall be delighted to,” said Mr. Duwell.