"We must show her something of English country life," he declared. "Can she sit a pony? We don't grow oranges and bananas here, but the gooseberries are ripe in the kitchen-garden, and they take a good deal of beating, in my opinion."
I thought Marshlands was the most delightful spot I had ever seen. The long, low gray stone house, with its mullioned windows and flagged passages, stood just above the little village of Everton, on the verge of the moors, where one could catch a glint of the distant sea and the peaks of the Cumberland mountains. Behind lay the home-farm, with the granaries and stables and orchards, and in front was a sweet old-fashioned garden, with archways of climbing roses and borders of closely-clipped box.
"I see the roof of the arbour has fallen in," said Cathy, as we wandered round on a tour of exploration after breakfast the first morning. "Edward will be dreadfully disappointed about it. He made it himself last holidays, and I thought at the time it wasn't strong enough, for we have such high winds here. Dick's badger has escaped. Caxton stupidly left the stable-door open, and, of course, it took the opportunity to run away, and is probably back in the woods by now. I don't know how we shall break the news to him."
It seemed that the boys were expected home that afternoon, so at Cathy's suggestion we set to work to make a few preparations for their arrival.
"We had better clean out all the animals, and brush their coats," she said. "I'm afraid the ferret has got terribly savage again. George begged Caxton to be sure and handle it every day, so that it should keep tame, but he says he is afraid to touch it. Don't you try, Philippa dear. Look at it now!"
I certainly did not feel inclined to put in my hand and fondle the creature, its sharp red eyes gleamed so viciously at me from among the straw; and I much preferred the black Angola rabbit, with fur as soft as silk, which submitted to caresses with the utmost stolidity and impassiveness.
"I expect George will bring his white mice home with him," continued Cathy. "He has eight of them at school. He kept them in a box behind the window-curtains in his bedroom, and the other boys had twelve brown ones and a dormouse. It was a dead secret for weeks, but at last the second master discovered it. He said they smelled, and he hunted all round the bedroom until he found them. At first he threatened to drown them, but afterwards he repented and said the boys might keep them in a shed outside until the end of the term, and then they must take them home and never bring them back to school again. George kept a newt once, too. He had it in his water-jug for several days, till it escaped and he couldn't find it anywhere. It turned up in one of the other boys' beds, when the housemaid was doing the rooms, and frightened her nearly into a fit, for she thought it was a serpent."
"Does Dick have pets?" I asked.
"Not of that kind. He generally has heaps of caterpillars and chrysalides, which are turning into moths and butterflies for his collection. He likes birds' eggs, too, but such a dreadful accident happened last holidays that he'll have to begin all over again."
"How was that?"