The Oriel Window

a happier little boy than Ferdy Ross when h

a dear sister, a pretty home, and, best of all, a loving, trusting, sunshiny nature, which made it easy for him to be very happy and loving, and made it easy too fo

a year and four months older than Ferdy, so it fitted in very well. As soon as her birthday was over they began the Christmas counting, and this in one way was the biggest of all the year, for their father's and mother's birthdays both came in Christm

asons into; there were separate and different things to do, according to which of the three parts of the year it was. For Christmas, of course, there was the most to do-all the little things to get ready for the Christmas tree as well as the presents for papa and mamma and lots of other people. And for Ferdy's birthday Chrissie had always to make something which had to be done in secret, so that he should not

. Just think of Marcia Payne now. These two horrible boys, Ted and Eustace, think there is nothing so nice as to snatch away her work and throw it into the fire or out of the window, or to nearly kill her poor dolls with their c

elf, though, like most mothers, it pleased her much more, she used to say, for her

if any grown-up person had overheard her, I think they would have laughed heartily. But Chrissie too

h his as Chrissie's, for he took the greatest interest in them, especially in their house and their carriages and horses and in all kinds of wonderful things he had made for them. Several of the doll-hous

had meant to do, for when he bade his sister good-night he told her he would be sure to knock at her door not later than five. But the sun was a good way up in the sky when he did wake-so far up inde

would have liked me to wake Chris so very early. I remember last year, on her birthda

and brushing the carpets. The schoolroom would certainly not be in order just yet; it never took him very long to have his bath and dress, and he knew

wers was Chrissie's maid, and she looked after Ferdy too, since nurse had left to be married-came to wake him at hi

nd even silver, as the gentle breeze fluttered them about. The birds too, they were up and about of course; now and then there came quite a flight of them, and then one solitary soarer would cross the blue sky up at the very top of the window-he would see it for half a

the Vicarage, and envied the vicar for having such a charming home, whereas the real Vicarage was a pretty but small

d the beauty of it was this window,-an oriel window,-projecting beyond the wall, as such windows do, and so exactly at the corner that you could see, so to say, three ways at once when you were standing in it: right down the village street to begin with, and down the short cross-road which led to the church, and then over the fields between the two, to where Farmer Meare's duckpond jutted out into the lane-"the primrose lane"-as not only Ferdy

Ferdy always said that when he grew to be a man he w

day, when he lay in bed wide awake and gazed at as much as

with the loud summery hum which is the only nice thing about blue-bottles, I think. And not always nice either perhaps, to tell the truth. If one is busy learning some difficult lesson, or adding up long columns of figures, a blue-bottle's buzz is

o pretty, almost prettier than big houses, with the nice little gardens in front, and roses and honeysuckle and traveller's joy climbing all over the walls and peeping in at the windows. Ferdy did not think he would at all mind living in a cottage, for Evercombe was a remarkably pretty village, and to all outside appearance the cottages were very neat and often picturesque, and the children had never been inside an

a mining village some distance from Evercombe. "That must be horrid. I wonder any one lives there! Or very old people who can't run about or scarcely walk, and who are quite deaf and nearly blind. Yes, they can't feel very happy. And yet they do sometimes. There's papa's old, old aunt; she seems as happy as anything, and yet I should think she's

e worst of all would be to be lame, I think-'cept p'r'aps being blind. Oh dear! I am glad I'm not old, or lame, or blind, or things like that. But I say, I do believe the cl

reply to his as eager "Come in" a rush of little bare feet across

so early. I've brought your present-min

lannel dressing-gown more closely round her that she might sit there in comfort and regale her eyes o

lovely shades, and with a twisted monogram of Ferdy's initials-"F. . R."-"Ferdinand Walter Ross"-worked in gold threads in the centre of the cover. It was a very good piece of work indeed for a little girl of Chrissie's age, and promised well for

r so many times I had to bundle it away just as I heard you coming. And do yo

d better than Chrissie, as he was so often planning

e the colours. I am so pleased you like it, Ferdy, darling. I liked doing it because it was such pretty work, but if it hadn't been a present for yo

ys the way with any really nice work. You can't scurry

at the door, and Flowers's vo

ou'd gone to. I do hope you've got your dressing-gow

sight of the little pink-flannelled figure her face cleared, for, fortunatel

ppers on her brother's birthday morning, when she had been d

ar," Flowers went on, growing rather red, "and will

er, and held needles of different sizes, strong sewing cotton and thread, various kinds of useful buttons, a sturdy little pair of sci

leave home," said the maid, "and I thought as no d

I needn't wait till I go to school to use it. It's just the very thing I'm sure to wan

and had felt rather uncertain as to how her gift would sui

y a very nice way with hi

t come and get dressed, or instead of being ready

n from the bed and went