“Gracious, I think I could make fudge of that earth,” Rosie exclaimed. “How tidy it looks,” Laura commented. “Yes,” Maida agreed. “That’s because the gardener has put it in perfect condition for you boys. But after this, you’ve got to take care of it yourselves. And weeds grow like--like--” She paused for a comparison. “Like sixty!” Arthur finished it for her. “I know; I’ve weeded my aunt’s garden in Maine. Believe me it’s hot work. The thing to do is to work a little every day--that’s the only way you can keep ahead of the weeds.” “Sure, early in the morning!” Dicky remarked. “How did you know that, Dicky?” Maida asked curiously. “I just happened to read it in a book,” Dicky explained. “Now, when I tell you,” Maida went on, as one suddenly remembering the rest of her instructions, “that we shall have to go to bed at nine and get up at seven, I have told you all I have to tell you. Father’s very strict about our sleep. He says we must have ten hours. There’s one exception. Saturday night, when we can sit up until ten and Sunday morning when we can sleep until eight. Now, how would you like to go to the Magic Mirror?” “Oh I’ve been on pins and needles every moment since we got up wanting to go to that Pond,” Rosie declared, “but then I want to see everything at once.” “Arthur, do you know how to row a canoe?” Dicky asked. “No, I don’t,” Arthur admitted. “I do,” said Harold with a slight accent of superiority, “but you don’t _row_ a canoe. You row a _boat_ and you _paddle_ a canoe.” “Does it take long to learn?” Dicky asked with great interest. “No, and it’s as easy as pie when you get the hang of it, but you fall overboard a hundred times before you do that.” “I can’t swim,” Dicky said disconsolately. “Never mind, Dicky,” Maida comforted him, “you’ll soon learn. Can you swim Rosie?” “Yes. I’ll teach you Dicky. You begin first with water wings and then--” In the meantime, following Maida’s lead, they were moving north. “Hi!” Arthur remonstrated. “The way to the Pond--I mean the Magic Mirror--is over in that direction.” “This is another way to it,” Maida explained. “Once you’ve taken it, you’ll never take any other.” A little path disengaged itself from the trees which fringed the lawn, began to wind away, almost hidden, among the trees. The children followed Maida in Indian file. For a few moments they could hear Granny Flynn calling to the younger children; then the voices gradually died away; bird voices took their places; the calm and the hush of the deep forest fell upon them. “Oh isn’t it wonderful!” Rosie said in an awed tone. “It makes me feel like--It makes me feel like--Well, it’s like being in church.” On both sides the fresh green of the trees made an intricate screen through which the sunlight poured and splashed. The birds kept up their calls; and many insects called too. A bee buzzed through a tiny interval of silence; then a crow cawed. The road turned, dipped, sank.