“Doesn’t Clement get things given him?” said I.
“Oh, he has plenty of plants,” said Eleanor, “but then he’s always making great plans about his garden; and the first step towards his improvements is always to clear out all the old things, and make what he calls ‘a clean sweep of the rubbish.’”
By the time that the “twelve o’clock bell” rang from the church-tower below, the heat was so great that we gathered up our tools and went home.
In the afternoon Eleanor said, “Were you ever on the moors? Did you ever wade? Do you care about water-weeds? Did you ever eat bilberries, or carberries?—but they’re not ripe yet. Shall we go and get some Batrachosperma, and paddle a bit, and give the dear boys a bathe?”
“Delightful!” said I; “but do you go out alone?”
“What should we take anybody with us for?” said Eleanor, opening her eyes.
I could not say. But as we dressed I said, “I’m so glad you don’t wear veils. Matilda and I used to have to wear veils to take care of our complexion.”
Eschewing veils and every unnecessary encumbrance, we set forth, followed by the dogs. I had taken off my crinoline, because Eleanor said we might have to climb some walls, and I had borrowed a pair of her boots, because my own were so uncomfortable from being high-heeled and narrow-soled. They were too thin for stony roads also, and, though they were prettily ornamented, they pinched my feet.
We went upwards from the Vicarage along hot roads bordered by stone walls. At last we turned and began to go downwards, and as we stood on the top of the steep hill we were about to descend, Eleanor, with some pride in her tone, asked me what I thought of the view.
It was very beautiful. The slopes of the purple hills were grand. I saw “moors” now.