That wild charm one can no more describe than one could photograph the skylark's song. But, with that in one's blood, other charms leave one temperate. Once tasted, never to be forgotten.... I found myself sniffing it up now as if it were some rich and definite perfume, instead of some atmosphere made up of a thousand elusive things ... the dreams of youth included!
And I was glad—that is, as glad as I could allow myself to feel in the circumstances—that, to take up my new venture, Fate had sent me back to the Land of my Fathers.
"There!" exclaimed Vic presently. "There's the farm!"
She pointed to a square building of apricot red, backed by trees and a gently-sloping green hill. It had a flat slate roof, and its many windows glittered in the sun.
With interested curiosity I gazed upon it as we came nearer—the farm where my chum and I were to receive our training for this new life which we'd chosen for ourselves—on a toss-up! That farm—stacked with such memories for me now! On that first morning I wondered what it would mean for me.
"Here's our way, round by the back," Vic piloted us. Up a short lane we went, through a big, red wooden gate, and into the farmyard. It was the first farmyard I'd been into since Dad gave up that farm of his that had swallowed, sovereign by sovereign, all his capital. This other place looked—ah, how much larger and more prosperous!
The big, oblong yard was bordered by buildings that gave the place the air of a homely monastery with cloisters.
By a shed door to the left a labourer in shirt-sleeves and wearing a soldier's cap was holding a horse, and talking to a very big man in tweeds. As this man turned his face I saw it was the kindest-looking one that I had ever seen.
Vic led us up to him.
"Here's our two new pupils, Mr. Price," she introduced us. "This little one's Elizabeth Weare. This other young lady with the white face is Joan Matthews."