We knew exactly how to bring the news of good marks in school and increased subscriptions to cricket to bear in effective combination upon the parental mind, and were amply rewarded by half a sheet, acknowledging the receipt of a ten-shilling piece in a match-box (the Arkwrights had a strange habit of sending coin of the realm by post, done up like botanical specimens), with brief directions as to the care of garden or collection, and perhaps a rude outline of the head-master's nose--"In a great hurry, from your loving and grateful Bro." We kept their gardens tidy, preserved their collections from dust, damp, and Keziah, and knitted socks for them.

I learned to knit, of course.
Every woman knits in that village of stone.

And "between lights" Eleanor and I plied our needles on the boys' behalf, and counted the days to the holidays.
We had fresh "fads" every holidays.

Many of our plans were ambitious enough, and the results would, no doubt, have been great had they been fully carried out.

But Midsummer holidays, though long, are limited in length.
Once we made ourselves into a Field Naturalists' Club.