pass time like."

"That must be very nice," I said.

"Like as if we was in Oakford," Mrs. Bundle continued, "and I could
drop in, as it might be this afternoon, and take a seat in my sister's
and ask after their good healths."

"I wish we could," said I.

The idea fermented in my brain, as ideas were wont to do, in the large
share of solitary hours that fell to my lot. The result of it was the
following adventure.

CHAPTER XIV

RUBENS AND I "DROP IN" AT THE RECTORY--GARDENS AND GARDENERS--MY
FATHER COMES FOR ME

One fine morning, when my father was busy with the farm-bailiff, and
Mrs. Bundle was "sorting" some clothes, I took my best hat from the
wardrobe, deliberately, and with some difficulty put on a clean frill,
fastened my boots, and calling Rubens after me, set forth from the
hall unnoticed by any of the family.

Rubens jumped up at me in an inquiring fashion as we went along. He
could not imagine where we were going. I knew quite well. I was making
for the Rectory, the road to which I knew. I had often thought I
should like to go and see Mr. Andrewes, and Mrs. Bundle's remarks to
the housekeeper had suggested to me the idea of calling upon him. We
were near neighbours, though we did not live in a town. I resolved to
"drop in" at the Rectory.

It was a lovely morning, and Rubens and I quite enjoyed our walk. He
became so much excited that it was with difficulty that I withheld him
from chasing the ducks on the pond in Mr. Andrewes' farm-yard, as we
went through it. (The parson had a little farm attached to his
Rectory.) Then I with difficulty unlatched the heavy gate leading into
the drive, and fastened it again with the scrupulous care of a
country squire's son. The grounds were exquisitely kept. Mr. Andrewes
was a first-rate gardener and a fair farmer. That neatness, without
which the brightest flowers will not "show themselves" (as gardeners
say), did full justice to every luxuriant shrub, and set off the pale,
delicately-beautiful border of snowdrops and crocuses which edged the
road, and the clumps of daffodil, polyanthus, and primrose flowers
dotted hither and thither. I was not surprised to hear the chorus of
birds above my head, for it was one of the parson's "oddities" that he
would have no birds shot on his premises.

When I came into the flower-garden, there was more exquisite neatness,
and more bright spring flowers, thinly scattered in comparison with
summer blossoms, but shining