Page:Brown·Bread·from·a·Colonial·Oven-Baughan-1912.pdf/116

 No doubt, either, that the hat so contrived—no matter whether its aspect be that of the latest thing in hats or not—sends a thrill of triumph and satisfaction through its wearer every time she puts it on her good sound head. After all, joy, like that Kingdom of Heaven of which undoubtedly it is a part, does lie within, and I would rather be Catherine in her humble fourpenny affair, than Miss Angelina Snooks, peacocking it in that three-guinea creation straight from Paris, which is depraving into jealous “copy-cats” half the girls of her acquaintance, and which, after all, no later than next season is bound to be out of season itself!

You would like to see Mrs. Ross? Come along, then, through this—gate, I was going to say; only, you can see for yourself it is not, properly speaking, quite a gate, as yet. Peter will make the gate, some day, when he can spare the time; and really, for the present, this pair of hurdles, placed together a little slantwise and secured by a leather strap, makes quite an efficient substitute. If Mr. Ross were in sight, I should feel it my duty to undo these straps—he is so very thorough, that, when I am with him, I always feel certain the slowest way must needs be the best; but, since he is not here, suppose we just climb over?—a much shorter process. Now we are in the paddock, between the house and the road, and have only to follow the clear little water-race which runs across it—oh, but do be careful! That is the second of these foot-high trees, look, that you have nearly stepped on; and you don’t know what you are endangering! Every one of these tiny treelings was grown from a real English acorn brought out