You notice with special favor one very low roof, which you might climb
upon by a mere plank, and you think the boys whose father lives in that
house are very fortunate boys.
Your old aunt, whom you visit, you think, wears a very queer cap, being
altogether different from that of the old nurse, or of Mrs.
Boyne,--Madge's mother. As for the house she lives in, it is quite
wonderful. There are such an immense number of closets, and closets
within closets, reminding you of the mysteries of "Rinaldo Rinaldini."
Beside which there are immensely curious bits of old furniture--so black
and heavy, and with such curious carving!--and you think of the old
wainscot in the "Children of the Abbey". You think you will never tire
of rambling about in its odd corners, and of what glorious stories you
will have to tell of it when you go back to Nelly and Charlie.
As for acquaintances, you fall in the very first day with a tall boy
next door, called Nat, which seems an extraordinary name. Besides, he
has travelled; and as he sits with you on the summer nights under the
linden-trees, he tells you gorgeous stories of the things he has seen.
He has made the voyage to London; and he talks about the ship (a real
ship) and starboard and larboard, and the spanker, in a way quite
surprising; and he takes the stern-oar in the little skiff, when you row
off in the cove abreast of the town, in a most seaman-like way.
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