“But don’t you think it would be pleasant to have a change now; and as we have lived underground, or say in the snow like the North people, try living in the air, like some of the South people?”
“Delightful!” cried Harry.—“A balloon?”
“No, not quite that. Don’t you think a nest would do?”
“Up in a tree?”
“Yes.”
Harry darted off for a run, as the only means of expressing his delight. When he came back, he said:
“When shall we begin, Mr. Sutherland?”
“We will go and look for a place at once; but I am not quite sure when we shall begin yet. I shall find out to-night, though.”
They left the fields, and went into the woods in the neighbourhood of the house, at the back. Here the trees had grown to a great size, some of them being very old indeed. They soon fixed upon a grotesque old oak as a proper tree in which to build their nest; and Harry, who, as well as Hugh, had a good deal of constructiveness in his nature, was so delighted, that the heat seemed to have no more influence upon him; and Hugh, fearful of the reaction, was compelled to restrain his gambols.
Pursuing their way through the dark warp of the wood, with its golden weft of crossing sunbeams, Hugh began to tell Harry the story of the killing of Cæsar by Brutus and the rest, filling up the account with portions from Shakspere. Fortunately, he was able to give the orations of Brutus and Antony in full. Harry was in ecstasy over the eloquence of the two men.