The Pigeon Pie

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Yonge Charlotte Mary. The Pigeon Pie

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

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Walter ran down to the village at full speed.  He first bent his steps towards the “Half-Moon,” the little public-house, where news was sure to be met with.  As he came towards it, however, he heard the loud sound of a man’s voice going steadily on as if with some discourse.  “Some preachment,” said he to himself: “they’ve got a thorough-going Roundhead, I can hear his twang through his nose!  Shall I go in or not?”

While he was asking himself this question, an old peasant in a round frock came towards him.

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“Amen!” said Walter, earnestly.  “And here we are.  Here is Lucy’s bank of turf, and my throne, and here we will wait till the sun is down.”

It was a beautiful green slope, covered with soft grass, short thyme, and cushion-like moss, and overshadowed by a thick, dark yew-tree, shut in by brushwood on all sides, and forming just such a retreat as children love to call their own.  Edmund threw himself down at full length on it, laid aside his hat, and passed his hand across his weary forehead.  “How quiet!” said he; “but, hark! is that the bubbling of water?” he added, raising himself eagerly.

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