And so they talked on, till a familiar voice accosted them. Their friend Mr Snow was standing beside them, holding a pretty, but delicate little girl, by the hand. He had been watching them for some time.
“Well how do you like the looks of things?”
“It’s bonny here,” said Marian.
“Where’s the town?” asked Harry, promptly.
Mr Snow made a motion with his head, intended to indicate the scene before them.
“Lacks a fraction of being ten miles square.”
“It’s all trees,” said little Will.
“Wooden country, eh, my little man?”
“Country! yes, it’s more like the country than like a town,” said Harry.
“Well, yes. On this side of the water, we can afford to have our towns, as big as some folks’ countries,” said Mr Snow, gravely.