, and
the sparrows build their nests, and the pears fall; but by the time this
story begins, four of them, whose names were Penelope, Ambrose, Nancy,
and David, were schoolroom children, and learnt lessons of Miss Grey
down-stairs. They had no longer much time for looking out of the
window, and the nursery was left in the possession of Dickie and Cicely
the baby. Dickie, whose real name was Delicia, was three years old--a
great girl now she thought--but she was still fond of kneeling up in the
window seat and flattening her little nose against the glass. She could
not see very much. Through the branches of the pear-tree a little to
the left appeared the church tower, and a glimpse here and there of grey
and white tombstones in the churchyard. Straight in front of her there
was a broad lawn sloping down to a sunk fence, and beyond that a meadow
with tall elms in it, and after that another meadow where cows were
feeding, and that was all. In the spring the meadows turned to gold and
silver with the buttercups and daisies, and the rooks cawed noisily in
the elms; but in the summer it was all very green and very quiet.
Particularly at lesson time, when the "others" were busy with Miss Grey,
and Dickie must not make a noise because baby was asleep. Then there
was only Andrew to be seen in the distance, bending over his barrow or
rake or spade; but he never looked up to the nursery window, and this
was not surprising, for Andrew had a great deal to do. He worked in the
garden, and fed the chickens, and took care of Ruby the horse, and
sometimes drove the wagonette into Nearminster; he also rang the church
bell, and was parish clerk. Perhaps it was because he had so much on
his mind that he was of a melancholy disposition, and seldom disposed
for conversation with the children.

They thought it a pity sometimes that neither the nursery nor the
schoolroom window looked out to the front of the house, for it was only
a little way back from the street; not that there was much going on in
the village, but still you could hear the "clink, clink" from the
blacksmith's forge opposite, and see anyone passing the white gate which
led out into the road. The vicarage was an old house; many and many a
vicar had lived in it, and altered or added to it according to his
liking, so that it was full of twists and turns, inside and out, and had
wonderful nooks and corners, and strange cupboards under the stairs.
Pennie, who was eleven