The colour of the sunlight was caught in the cups and runnels of the stiff frozen roads and a horse's hoofs echoed, sharp and ringing, over fields and hedges.

The ponds were silvered into a sheet of ice, so thin that the water showed dark beneath it.

All the trees were rimmed with hoar-frost.
On Christmas afternoon, when three o'clock had just struck from the church tower, Hugh and Mr.Pidgen met, as though by some conspirator's agreement, by the garden gate.

They had said nothing to one another and yet there they were; they both glanced anxiously back at the house and then Mr.Pidgen said: "Suppose we take a walk." "Thank you very much," said Hugh.

"Tea isn't till half-past four." "Very well, then, suppose you lead the way." They walked a little, and then Hugh said: "I was there yesterday, in the study, when you talked all that about your books, and everything." The words came from him in little breathless gusts because he was excited.
Mr.Pidgen stopped and looked upon him.