campion followed, and then, in the autumn, they had the joy of collecting hazel nuts and blackberries, as busily as the red squirrels that darted airily across the frail twigs high above their heads. Even in winter the wood offered treasures for those who cared to seek, and the two little girls would return carrying orange toadstools or lichen-covered branches in their cold hands.
Both children were fortunate too in having parents enlightened enough to give them a small patch of garden for their own cultivation. Most cottage gardens at this time were given over exclusively to the growing of vegetables for the family, and there was real need for this. Consequently, very few children had anywhere to play on their own territory, and fewer still were able to count a yard or two as their very own. Dolly and Ada shared a patch, and Emily had a much smaller one in her own garden. Here the children planted any seeds they could beg, and slips of plants given them by indulgent grown-up gardeners. The result was gay and unusual. Radishes and marigolds rioted together, a cabbage sheltered a clump of yellow pansies, and double daisies tossed their fringes beside mustard and cress.
They were lucky too with reading matter. Mr Finch, for all his pomposity and strictness, was a good teacher, and fostered any talent and interest that he saw. Books from the school library shelf could be borrowed, if brown paper covers were made for them and they were returned within a week. Often he lent a book from his own house, and this was greatly treasured. In this way Emily and Dolly were able to read more recent fiction than the Marryats, Mrs Ewings, and Kingsleys on the school shelf. Rider Haggard, Conan Doyle and Kipling were some of the new authors that the little girls met for the first time, and though there was much that escaped their understanding, the excitement of the stories swept them along in a fever of anticipation and made them long for the chance to see the strange foreign places there portrayed. Young though they were, they too had caught the fever for adventure which quickened their elders at this time, and they mourned the fact that they were female, and so never likely to have the opportunities of Allan Quatermain. Dolly's greatest moment came when Mr Finch presented her with a copy of
Three Men in a Boat,
which remained a favourite of hers for many years, though at its first reading she skipped all the moralising bits and the descriptions.
There were plenty of children, in their own families and their neighbours', to satisfy their interests, and mothers were glad to trust their toddlers to two girls who were so unusually sensible. Their sorties to the woods were usually in the company of Frank and another toddler or two straggling happily along behind them, or stuffed in an old pushchair and rattling over the uneven path.
'Fresh air's free,' the mothers used to tell them; 'you get as much of it as you can.' And out the children would be bundled, while cottage floors were swept and scrubbed, and the steel fenders and fire irons were polished with emery paper, and everything 'put to rights', as they said, in the few snatched minutes of freedom from their offspring. Consequently, there were always plenty of young children ready to join in games, or to be petted and admired by the older girls.
Looking back, Miss Clare saw how valuable all this unconscious training had been to her work as a teacher. The love of flowers and reading she passed on to many a country child, and her own response to young children, protective and warm-hearted, never failed her.
Friendship with Emily meant less dependence on Ada, and now that the two sisters were growing older, the differences in temperament became even more marked. Ada grew more handsome as the years passed, and her boundless vivacity made her attractive to the boys at Beech Green school as well as the girls. Fearless and athletic, she could climb a tree or vault a fence, despite her
Both children were fortunate too in having parents enlightened enough to give them a small patch of garden for their own cultivation. Most cottage gardens at this time were given over exclusively to the growing of vegetables for the family, and there was real need for this. Consequently, very few children had anywhere to play on their own territory, and fewer still were able to count a yard or two as their very own. Dolly and Ada shared a patch, and Emily had a much smaller one in her own garden. Here the children planted any seeds they could beg, and slips of plants given them by indulgent grown-up gardeners. The result was gay and unusual. Radishes and marigolds rioted together, a cabbage sheltered a clump of yellow pansies, and double daisies tossed their fringes beside mustard and cress.
They were lucky too with reading matter. Mr Finch, for all his pomposity and strictness, was a good teacher, and fostered any talent and interest that he saw. Books from the school library shelf could be borrowed, if brown paper covers were made for them and they were returned within a week. Often he lent a book from his own house, and this was greatly treasured. In this way Emily and Dolly were able to read more recent fiction than the Marryats, Mrs Ewings, and Kingsleys on the school shelf. Rider Haggard, Conan Doyle and Kipling were some of the new authors that the little girls met for the first time, and though there was much that escaped their understanding, the excitement of the stories swept them along in a fever of anticipation and made them long for the chance to see the strange foreign places there portrayed. Young though they were, they too had caught the fever for adventure which quickened their elders at this time, and they mourned the fact that they were female, and so never likely to have the opportunities of Allan Quatermain. Dolly's greatest moment came when Mr Finch presented her with a copy of
Three Men in a Boat,
which remained a favourite of hers for many years, though at its first reading she skipped all the moralising bits and the descriptions.
There were plenty of children, in their own families and their neighbours', to satisfy their interests, and mothers were glad to trust their toddlers to two girls who were so unusually sensible. Their sorties to the woods were usually in the company of Frank and another toddler or two straggling happily along behind them, or stuffed in an old pushchair and rattling over the uneven path.
'Fresh air's free,' the mothers used to tell them; 'you get as much of it as you can.' And out the children would be bundled, while cottage floors were swept and scrubbed, and the steel fenders and fire irons were polished with emery paper, and everything 'put to rights', as they said, in the few snatched minutes of freedom from their offspring. Consequently, there were always plenty of young children ready to join in games, or to be petted and admired by the older girls.
Looking back, Miss Clare saw how valuable all this unconscious training had been to her work as a teacher. The love of flowers and reading she passed on to many a country child, and her own response to young children, protective and warm-hearted, never failed her.
Friendship with Emily meant less dependence on Ada, and now that the two sisters were growing older, the differences in temperament became even more marked. Ada grew more handsome as the years passed, and her boundless vivacity made her attractive to the boys at Beech Green school as well as the girls. Fearless and athletic, she could climb a tree or vault a fence, despite her
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