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Updated: May 12, 2025
How difficult to believe that such a strapping young thing can be the squalling Matty I left in London!" Matty laughed as she got in, by way of reply, for she did not yet quite believe in her big brother. "Do you drive, Tim; I'll stay inside," said Bob. In another moment the spanking bays were whirling the wagon over the road to Brankly Farm at the rate of ten miles an hour.
The poor mother's wish was not unnatural, for the letter which Bobby had written was not calculated to tax the reader's patience, and, as Hetty hinted, there was room for improvement, not only in the spelling but in the writing. Nevertheless, it had carried great joy to the mother's heart. We shall therefore give it verbatim et literatim. Brankly Farm Kanada.
Sitting there, partially awe-stricken by the novelty of their surroundings, they admitted that they had slept well. "Get ready for work then," said Mr Merryboy, through a rather large mouthful. "No time to lose. Eat eat well for there's lots to do. No idlers on Brankly Farm, I can tell you. And we don't let young folk lie abed till breakfast-time every day.
Let us then indulge ourselves a little with a glance at the farm of Brankly in Canada. Lake Ontario, with its expanse of boundless blue, rolls like an ocean in the far distance. We can see it from the hill-top where the sweet-smelling red-pines grow.
At the bottom of the hill lies Brankly itself, with its orchards and homestead and fields of golden grain, and its little river, with the little saw-mill going as pertinaciously as if it, like the river, had resolved to go on for ever.
Although Bob and his mother left off talking of Ned Frog somewhat abruptly, as well as sorrowfully, it does not follow that we are bound to do the same. On the contrary, we now ask the reader to leave Brankly Farm rather abruptly, and return to London for the purpose of paying Ned a visit.
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