Florence ran off for her bonnet, saying, however, as she went, "I will ask nursey—if she knows, I am sure she will tell me."
"She does not know," Mr. Arnott called out.
As I love pleasant surprises, especially when children are to enjoy the pleasure, this little mystery was a temptation to join the walkers too strong for me to resist, so before Florence came back, I was ready too, and went off as full of curiosity and pleased expectation as any of the party. Mr. Arnott led us through the garden into the orchard beyond it. As we entered the garden, Florence said, "Now I know what it is, papa—you are going to show us a new flower."
"Indeed, I am not, Florence."
As we passed into the orchard, she suddenly exclaimed, "Now I have it, papa, now I have it; the cherries we were looking at the other day are ripe, and you are going to get us some."
Her father smiled, but said nothing.
"That is it, papa, is it not?"
"Wait a few minutes, Florence, and you will see."
"Well, I give it up, now, for we have passed all the cherry-trees."
Mr. Arnott turned towards a wood which skirted the orchard on the north, and long before we reached it the secret was told; for, on the stoutest branch of a magnificent oak, which he had, by removing his fence, enclosed within the orchard, hung a swing—a new and strongly made swing, with a very comfortable seat. We all quickened our pace as we came in sight of it, and many were the exclamations of admiration and delight from the children.