It’s covered wi’ growin’ things as smells sweet. “Aye, that I do,” answered Martha, cheerfully polishing away at the grate. “That’s because tha’rt not used to it,” Martha said, going back to her hearth. “That’s th’ moor,” with a good-natured grin.

Martha, the young housemaid, who had just risen to her feet, looked and pointed also. “What is that?” she said, pointing out of the window. Out of a deep window she could see a great climbing stretch of land which seemed to have no trees on it, and to look rather like an endless, dull, purplish sea. Mary felt as if she were in the forest with them. There were hunters and horses and dogs and ladies.

There were fantastically dressed people under the trees and in the distance there was a glimpse of the turrets of a castle. The walls were covered with tapestry with a forest scene embroidered on it. She had never seen a room at all like it and thought it curious and gloomy. Mary lay and watched her for a few moments and then began to look about the room. When she opened her eyes in the morning it was because a young housemaid had come into her room to light the fire and was kneeling on the hearth-rug raking out the cinders noisily. You should visit Browse Happy and update your internet browser today! The embedded audio player requires a modern internet browser.

Over the garden wall chords