Page:Cornelia Meigs--The windy hill.djvu/53

 HE The story had come to an end, but the boy and girl still waited as though to hear more.

"But do oak trees grow to be so old?" Oliver inquired at last, looking out at the moving shadow of the great tree that had now covered the doorstone.

"Yes, three hundred years is no impossible age for an oak. All the old grants of land speak of an oak tree on this hill as one of the landmarks."

"How did you know?" began Oliver, and then broke off, with a sudden jerk of recollection: "Oh, I forgot all about it—my train!"

He snatched out his watch and stood regarding it with a rueful face. He had missed the train by more than half an hour.

"Were you going away?" asked Polly sympathetically. "We are always missing trains like that, daddy and I. Won't they be surprised to see you come back!"

"They—they didn't know I was going," returned Oliver. "They are wondering now where I am." He was too much agitated to keep from