Old Sam grinned, and shook his head, and just then eight o’clock struck by the village church, which was about a mile off, so Sam wiped his scythe, and, shouldering it, walked off to his breakfast, just as a cheery cry of—“Now, boys,” came from out of the verandah, where Mr and Mrs Inglis were standing, watching the lads upon the lawn.
The pretty breakfast-room looked so bright and cheerful; there was such an odorous bunch of dew-wet roses in a vase; such sweet scents, too, came through the open window, and such country farm-house bounty spread upon the breakfast-table, that Fred told his cousins after the meal that he had never enjoyed anything before half so well in his life.
“Now, boys, what are you going to do to-day?” said Mr Inglis.
“Going fishing, Papa, in Trencher Pond,” said Harry.
“Why, there’s nothing there worth catching,” said Mr Inglis.
“Oh yes, Papa!” said Phil. “It’s full of sticklebacks, and such beauties! Some are all gold and green and scarlet; the most beautiful little creatures you ever saw, and it is so easy to catch them; and, besides, it is so pretty there now.”
“Oh, very well!” said their father; “only I’ve got leave for you to fish in Lord Copsedale’s lake next week.”
“Hooray!” said Harry; “that’s capital.”
After breakfast Fred was all in a state of ferment to be off to Trencher Pond. All was new to him, for he did not even know what a stickleback might be, and he longed to see some of these gorgeous fellows that were all over “gold and green and scarlet.” They were not long in getting equipped for their trip, for Harry soon produced three willow wands, some twine, worms, and a tin can to hold the spoil; and, thus provided, away they started, with the full understanding that their dinner would be ready at one o’clock precisely.
They had only about a mile to walk down a green lane, and then to turn off on the little common which contained the pond, but that mile took a long time to get over, there was so much to do, to see, and to listen to; there was the hole where the wasps had a nest to look at; there were the nimble squirrels to watch as they darted across the road, and, scampering up the trees, peeped down at the visitors to their domains. Ah, how Fred longed to have one of the little bushy-tailed fellows, as he watched their nimble tricks, scampering and leaping from bough to bough as easily and fearlessly as a cat would upon the ground. Then there were so many pretty wildflowers in the banks and hedge-rows; so many birds to learn the names of, for they were all strangers to Fred, who only knew sparrows—and they were different to the sparrows down here at Hollowdell—and canaries and parrots. There was a hedge-sparrow’s nest, too, to peep at, with its tiny little blue eggs; but not to touch, for, though Fred wanted to take it, Harry and Phil said “No;” for Papa did not approve of the birds being disturbed. Then there was a beautifully-formed mossy little cup-shaped nest in the fork of a tree, just inside the coppice, smooth, round, and soft-edged, with the horsehair and wool lining all plaited together, and made as even as possible. It was so low down that, by bending the branch, the boys could look at it, which they did, while the poor chaffinches, in the horse-chestnut tree close by, cried “pink-pink-pink” in a state of the greatest alarm lest their work should be destroyed; and the pretty cock bird, with his crested head, pinky breast, and white-marked wings, burst out into a loud and joyous song, short but sweet, as the three young travellers journeyed on. And what a horse-chestnut tree that was all one mass of pinky white blossoms, the tree itself one mighty green pyramid of graceful leaves, and then, from top to bottom, hundreds and hundreds of the blossom-spikes standing like little floral trees themselves; while from every part of it came a continuous hum, as the bees and other insects rifled the honeyed treasures and bore them away.