p and brought here? He had no friend of his own age; like herself, he was a lone child; and it was with a little pang, which she almost laughed to feel, that she drew near, and softly parted the branches that hung between her and the pool. The first step was fatal, she thought, and she was apparently condemned to be a peeper and an eavesdropper for the rest of her days.
Hugh was sitting beside the pool, but not in his favourite Narcissus-like attitude. His knees were well up in front of him, his hands were clasped over them, and facing him, in precisely the same position, was a boy in blue jean overalls, with a shock of black hair, and bright, dark eyes.
"What kind of fish?" asked the black-eyed boy, with kindling look.
"Little fish with silver tails," said Hugh, "and shining eyes. They look at me, and sometimes I think they listen to what I say; but they cannot speak, you know."
"Ho! I should think not!" said Black-eyes, scornfully. "I mean what KIND of fish are they, when you catch 'em,--minnows
4th in the Hildegarde series. I've become so involved with these characters now that they have become real to me. Such simple times. It is like a window into a lost world. Sort of like the Twilight Zone episode entitled, "Willoughby." If you want simple, non-taxing mental escapism, definitely go for the Hildegarde series and then the Margaret Montfort series after it. Enjoy!