"
"Let us go to the Rectory at once," said I; "Mr. Andrewes said we
might have some of those big yellow raspberries, and we must ask him
about it. It's a splendid idea. But where shall we go?"
The matter resolved itself into this question. The Rector was quite
willing for the treat. My father gave us a handsome subscription; the
farmers followed the Squire's lead. Mr. Andrewes was not behindhand.
The tutor and I considered the object a suitable one for aid from our
alms-box. There was no difficulty whatever. Only--where were we to
go?
Finally, we all decided that we would go to Oakford.
It was not because Oakford had been the end of our consultation long
ago, after my illness, nor because Nurse Bundle had any voice in the
matter, it was a certain bullet-headed, slow-tongued old farmer, one
of our teachers, who voted for our going to Oakford; and more by
persistently repeating his advice than by any very strong reasons
there seemed to be for our following it, he carried the day.
"I've know'd Oakford, man and boy, for twenty year," he repeated, at
intervals of three minutes or so, during what would now be called a
"teachers' meeting" in the school-room.
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