he fields in the clear morning air, never any scrapes to get into! No
gentle dawdles through the lanes after school, with occasional
excursions into hedge or spinny after wild creatures, or the chance of a
nice creepy adventure in the darkness of some winter's evening. The
whole business, Tom thought, was humdrum and commonplace.

But at last, one early springtime, it happened that Mr. M'Calmont had
urgent business at the town of Greenhurst, twenty miles away. It was a
cross-country journey, where railways did not fit, so Mr. M'Calmont
departed in his trap, leaving Tom and his mother in sole possession for
a whole fortnight at Red House. Mrs. M'Calmont was secretly rather glad
to be able to spoil her son as she liked.

Tom made the most of his advantages, and mother and son together
revelled in the glorious sense of doing everything they liked best.
Tom's favourite dishes appeared at every meal, bedtime came a good hour
later than usual, and Tom also managed three clear days'
'old-soldiering' on the strength of a slight cold. But the last morning
of liberty came, and as Tom dressed he carefully turned over in his mind
how he should celebrate it. It was a beautiful morning after a week of
heavy rain, and Tom had no wish for another day of coddling indoors.

Tom's mother packed his lunch-case with many dainties, and kissed him
good-bye. Tom felt rather mean, 'like a wriggle-up worm' as he
afterwards put it, and he half resolved to give up his plan and go
soberly to school, for, to tell the truth, he had already resolved to
play truant. Unhappily, as he turned into the lane from the drive gates,
a rabbit dashed across the road right in front of him, and frisked into
the hedge in a most tantalising manner, as if to show his contempt for
stupid human beings who plod along the beaten track. That killed all
Tom's scruples, and he was soon scurrying through the fields, scrambling
over hedges, leaping ditches, and getting his clothes into as pretty a
pickle as could be desired.

What a splendid day he spent, following no settled route, but wandering
here and there as the impulse of the moment directed, and feeling in all
his boyish frame the gladness of life and of spring! He lunched in a
little wood, with a fallen tree for a throne, and a rippling stream to
play him music while he feasted. Then he sauntered leisurely on in the
afternoon sunlight, many thoughts busy beneath his comical red thatch.
The long hours in the open a