“And horses and dogs and cats,” added Jane, the lump in her throat already gone.
“Oh, they don’t count. You could have horses and dogs and cats without having a farm,” said Christopher. “There are big fields where the men plough and cut hay, and there must be dozens of cows,” he explained to Mrs. Hartwell-Jones.
“And where is this wonderful farm?”
“It’s near Hammersmith. We drive there; miles and miles!”
“The farm is called ‘Sunnycrest,’” put in Jane eagerly, “because the house—grandfather’s house—stands up on a hill. The farmhouse and stables are down the hill across the dearest little creek, where they have a dairy and make butter. Huldah lets me help sometimes. Huldah cooks for grandmother but she lives at the farm, she and Josh.”
“Josh is grandfather’s ‘right-hand man,’ grandfather calls him. He bosses the whole farm and he’s awfully nice.”
“It all sounds ‘awfully nice,’” said the gray-haired lady a little wistfully. “I am going to Hammersmith, too, only I have to stay in the village. Perhaps you will come to see me some time?”
“Yes’m,” said Jane politely. “If grandmother will let us.”
Grandmother herself joined them just then. She was afraid that the children might be tiring their new friend. She and Mrs. Hartwell-Jones introduced themselves to each other and grandmother sat down in the chair out of which the children, mindful of their manners, had tumbled. They stood quietly in the aisle for a moment or two, but as grandmother would not allow them to have any more chocolates and the conversation promised to be quite “grown up,” they ran back to their own seats.
Presently the train slowed down and finally came to a stop beside a long, dilapidated platform with a small, low wooden house. There were several sets of tracks branching out from this platform in different directions and on the platform was a group of people, standing about as if waiting for a train.