In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard. A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the air. Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered about. There were boys everywhere, “up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady’s chamber,” apparently, for various open doors showed pleasant groups of big boys, little boys, and middle-sized boys in all stages of evening relaxation, not to say effervescence. The house seemed swarming with boys, who were beguiling the rainy twilight with all sorts of amusements. Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about him curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the dusky recess by the door. “Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis.” She seemed used to receiving strange boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and said, with a nod: “I hope the lady will see to me,” he thought, and gave a timid rap with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin’s head.Ī rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she took the letter which he silently offered. Neither curtains nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer and, pausing a moment before he rang, Nat saw many little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young voices, and felt that it was hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within could be for a homeless “little chap” like him. Through the soft spring rain that fell on sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house before him a hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned porch, wide steps, and lights shining in many windows. The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much cheered by the words. “All right go up to the house, and give it to her she’ll see to you, little chap.”

“Please, sir, is this Plumfield?” asked a ragged boy of the man who opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him. TO WHOM SHE OWES SOME OF THE BEST AND HAPPIEST HOURS OF HER LIFE, Prepared by David Reed or Men: Life at Plumfield With Jo’s Boys

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