, and do many such other little
things as he was set to do.

I must not forget to say that Mr. Fairchild had a school for poor boys
in the next village, and Mrs. Fairchild one for girls. I do not mean
that they taught the children entirely themselves, but they paid a
master and mistress to teach them; and they used to take a walk two or
three times a week to see the children, and to give rewards to those
who had behaved well. When Lucy and Emily and Henry were obedient,
their parents were so kind as to let them go with them to see the
schools; and then they always contrived to have some little thing ready
to carry with them as presents to the good children.

The Birthday Walk

[Illustration: Good children]

"It is Lucy's birthday," said Mr. Fairchild, as he came into the
parlour one fine morning in May; "we will go to see John Trueman, and
take some cake to his little children, and afterwards we will go on to
visit Nurse, and carry her some tea and sugar."

Nurse was a pious old woman, who had taken care of Lucy when she was a
baby, and now lived with her son and his wife Joan in a little cottage
not far distant, called Brookside Cottage, because a clear stream of
water ran just before the door.

"And shall we stay at Nurse's all day, papa?" said the children.

"Ask your mamma, my dears," said Mr. Fairchild.

"With all my heart," said Mrs. Fairchild; "and we will take Betty with
us to carry our dinner."

So when the children had breakfasted, and Betty was ready, they all set
out. And first they went down the lane towards John Trueman's cottage.
There is not a pleasanter lane near any village in England; the hedge
on each side is of hawthorn, which was then in blossom, and the grass
was soft under the feet as a velvet cushion; on the bank, under the
hedge, were all manner of sweet flowers, violets, and primroses, and
the blue vervain.

Lucy and Emily and Henry ran gaily along before Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild,
and Betty came after with the basket. Before they came up to the gate
of John Trueman's cottage, the children stopped to take the cake out of
Betty's basket, and to cut shares of it for John's little ones. Whilst
they were doing this, their father and mother had reached the cottage,
and were sitting down at the door when they came up.

John Trueman's cottage was a neat little place, standing in a garden,
adorned with pinks and rosemary and southernwood. John himself was gone
out to his daily work