"Grand, indeed. What fun we'll have! I almost think I could take a
walk myself."

For the lad's company invariably gave me new life, and strength, and
hope. The very sight of him was as good as the coming of spring.

"Where shall we go?" said he, when we were fairly off, and he was
guiding my carriage down Norton Bury streets.

"I think to the Mythe." The Mythe was a little hill on the outskirts
of the town, breezy and fresh, where Squire Brithwood had built
himself a fine house ten years ago.

"Ay, that will do; and as we go, you will see the floods out--a
wonderful sight, isn't it? The river is rising still, I hear; at the
tan-yard they are busy making a dam against it. How high are the
floods here, generally, Phineas?"

"I'm sure I can't remember. But don't look so serious. Let us enjoy
ourselves."

And I did enjoy, intensely, that pleasant stroll. The mere sunshine
was delicious; delicious, too, to pause on the bridge at the other
end of the town, and feel the breeze brought in by the rising waters,
and hear the loud sound of them, as they poured in a cataract over
the flood-gates hard by.

"Your lazy, muddy Avon looks splendid now. What masses of white foam
it makes, and what wreaths of spray; and see! ever so much of the Ham