“Hi, hallo-o-o!” shouted somebody front out of doors.
“There’s Phil,” said Harry, going to the window and throwing it open, when in came gushing the sweet morning air, laden with the dew sweetness of a thousand flowers. The roses and jasmine nodded round the casement, and from almost every tree within reach of hearing, right down to the coppice, came ringing forth the merry morning songs of the birds.
“Oh!” said Fred, in a burst of admiration as he went to the window, half dressed; “oh! isn’t it beautiful? I never thought the country half so pretty. I wish I had got up sooner.”
“Do you?” said Harry. “Won’t we have you up, then, to-morrow morning! But only look; Phil has found an old ‘bottle washer.’ Do make haste and come down, and we’ll put him in the ferret’s cage.”
“Oh! do stop,” said Fred, splashing his face about in the cold water, and hurrying to get finished; “do stop for me, there’s a good fellow.”
Five minutes after the three lads were together upon the lawn, rolling a prickly, spiky hedgehog over and over in the vain hope of getting him to open out and show his black, bright little eyes, and sharp piggy like snout; all which time old Sam was busy at work, making his keen bright scythe shave off the little yellow-eyed daisies that seemed sprinkled all over the green turf that was so soft and elastic to the feet.
“Chinkle chingle, chinkle chingle,” rang out the scythe, as he held it over his shoulder, and sharpened it with his gritty rubber, and then again shave, shave, shave, over the velvet grass, till long rows of the little strands lay across the lawn.
A comical old fellow was Sam, and he used to say that no one loved the young masters so well as he did; but somehow or another Sam never used to see them out in the garden without finding something to grumble about. His complaints were generally without foundation; but Sam used to think he had cause to complain; and, being rather an old man, he used to consider he had a right so to do.
“Now then, Master Harry, you’re at it again! What’s the use of my trying to keep the garden nice if you will keep racing about over it like that? I wish you’d keep indoors, I do.”
“We ain’t going to, though, are we, Phil?” said Harry, laughing. “Old Sam would be sure to fetch us out again if we did; wouldn’t you, Sam?”