"There's a good John!" said Emily. "I love you, John!" said Henry. "And now, Betty, come, make haste away." So the children set out; and they went out across the garden to a little wicket-gate which Mr. Fairchild had opened towards the coppice, and came into Henry's favourite Sunday walk. The green trees arched over their heads; and on each side the pathway was a mossy bank, out of which sprang such kind of flowers as love shady places--such as the wood anemone and wild vetch: thrushes and blackbirds were singing sweetly amongst the branches of the trees. "This is my walk," said Henry; "and I say it is the prettiest in the country." "No, Henry," said Emily; "it is not so pretty as the walk to the hut at the top of the hill: for there you can look all over the coppice, and see the birds flying over the tops of the trees." "Sister," said Lucy, "now you shall carry my basket, and I will have the doll a little." "With all my heart," said Emily. "Why don't you give Miss to me?" said Henry. "Oh, yes!" said Emily. "Did I not give her to you one day; and did you not hang her upon a tree in the garden, with a bit of string round her neck, and say she was a thief?" "Lucy," said Henry, "let us have a race to that tree which has fallen down over the path." So away they ran; and when they got to the tree they sat down upon the trunk until Betty came up with Emily. On one side of the fallen tree was a place where the wood had been cut away, and the woodmen had made themselves a little hut, which they had now left empty. Round this hut were scattered many dry sticks and chips. "Master Henry," said Betty, "here are some nice sticks: let us gather a few together; they will do to make a fire to boil Mary Bush's kettle." "Oh, yes, Betty," answered the children: and they set to work, and soon gathered a great many sticks; and Betty tied them together with a piece of packthread which Henry pulled out of his pocket; then Betty took off her bonnet, and placed the bundle upon her head. They went on to Mary Bush's. The children wanted to help to carry the sticks, but Betty would not let them, saying they were too heavy for them. "But we can carry the bread and butter," said Lucy; so Betty allowed them to do it. When they had walked a little farther, they came in sight of Mary Bush's house, down in a kind of little valley or dingle, deeply shaded by trees. In the very deepest part of the dingle was a stream of water falling from a rock. The light from above fell upon the water as it flowed, and made it glitter and shine very beautifully among the shady trees. This was the same which took its course through the Primrose Meadow, and on towards the village, and so to Brookside Cottage, where nurse lived--a clear and beautiful stream as could be.