Mrs. Underwood, with Felix
and Wilmet, tied up the plates, knives, and forks, and then the
mother, taking Angela with her, went to negotiate kettle-boiling at
the cottage. Geraldine would fain have sketched, but the glory and
the beauty, and the very lassitude of delight and novelty, made her
eyes swim with a delicious mist; and Edgar, who had begun when she
did, threw down his pencil as soon as he saw Felix at liberty, and
the two boys rushed away into the wood for a good tearing scramble
and climb, like creatures intoxicated with the freedom of the
greenwood.
After a time they came back, dropping armfuls of loose-strife,
meadow-sweet, blue vetch, and honey-suckle over delighted Cherry; and
falling down by her side, coats off, all gasp and laughter, and
breathless narrative of exploits and adventures, which somehow died
away into the sleepiness due to their previous five-mile walk. Felix
went quite off, lying flat on his back, with his head on Cherry's
little spreading lilac cotton frock, and his mouth wide open, much
tempting Edgar to pop in a pebble; and this being prevented by tender
Cherry in vehement dumb show, Edgar consoled himself by a decidedly
uncomplimentary caricature of him as Giant Blunderbore (a name
derived from Fee, Fa, Fum) gaping for hasty pudding.
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