"Drive? to be sure we will drive," said Norton, as he let her go. "We will drive all over creation."
The visitors went away just at this juncture, and the children were called in to dinner. And after dinner Norton made some of his words good. Mrs. Laval was not going out; she gave leave to Norton to do what he pleased, and he took Matilda to drive in the basket phaeton.
"Norton," she said, as they were just setting forth.
"Well?"
"If you would just as lieve, I wish you wouldn't, please, go past Aunt Candy's."
"Not go past?" said Norton. "Why, Pink?"
"If you would just as lieve, I would rather not."
Norton nodded, and they took another way. But now this was better than fairyland. Fairyland never knew such a drive, surely. The afternoon was just right, as Norton had said; there was no dust, and not too much sun; the roads were in fine order; and they bowled along as if the ponies had had nothing to do in a great while. Now it was hardly within the memory of Matilda to have seen the country around Shadywalk as she saw it this afternoon. Every house had the charm of a picture; every tree by the roadside seemed to be planted for her pleasure. The meadows and fields of stubble and patches of ploughed land, were like pieces of a new world to the long housed child. Norton told her to whom these fields belonged, which increased the effect, and gave bits of family history, as he knew it, connected with the names. These meadows belonged to such a gentleman; his acres counted so many; were good for so much; taken capital care of. Here were the fields and woods of such-a-one's farm; he kept cows and sent milk to New York. That house among the trees was the homestead of one of the old county families; the place was beautiful; Matilda would see it some day with Mrs. Laval; that little cottage by the gate was only a lodge. Matilda desired to know what a lodge was; and upon the explanation, and upon many more details correlative and co-related, went into musings of her own. But the sky was so fair and blue; the earth was so rich and sunny; the touches of sear or yellow leaves here and there on a branch gave such emphasis to the deep hues still lingering on the vegetation; the phaeton wheels rolled so smoothly; that Matilda's musings did not know very well what course to keep.
"Well what are you thinking of?" said Norton after a silence of some time.
"I was thinking of Lilac Lane, just then."