'Oh, this is charming,' said Molly, after a toss-up on her seat from a tremendous bump.
'For youth, but not for crabbed age,' said Mr Gibson.'My bones are getting rheumatic, and would rather go smoothly over macadamized streets.'
'That's treason to this lovely view and this fine pure air, papa.Only I don't believe you.'
'Thank you.As you are so complimentary, I think I shall put you down at the foot of this hill; we have passed the second milestone from Hollingford.'
'Oh, let me just go up to the top! I know we can see the blue range of the Malverns from it, and Dorrimer Hall among the woods; the horse will want a minute's rest, and then I will get down without a word.'
So she went up to the top of the hill; and there they sate still a minute or two, enjoying the view, without much speaking.The woods were golden, the old house of purple-red brick, with its twisted chimneys, rose up from among them facing on to green lawns, and a placid lake; beyond again were the Malvern Hills!
'Now jump down, lassie, and make the best of your way home before it gets dark.You'll find the cut over Croston Heath shorter than the road we've come by.'
To get to Croston Heath, Molly had to go down a narrow lane overshadowed by trees, with picturesque old cottages dotted here and there on the steep sandy banks; and then there came a small wood, and then there was a brook to be crossed on a plank-bridge, and up the steeper fields on the opposite side were cut steps in the turfy path, which ended, she was on Croston Heath, a wide-stretching common skirted by labourers' dwellings, past which a near road to Hollingford lay.