CHAPTER V.
AUNT EMMA'S PICNIC Instead of taking them straight into the house, however, Aunt Emma took the children up a little shady path which very soon brought them to a white cottage covered with honeysuckle and climbing roses.
"This is where my coachman's wife lives," said Aunt Emma, "and she owns a small boy who might perhaps find you a pair of stockings, Olly, to put on while your own are washed." Olly opened his brown eyes very wide at the idea of wearing some other little boy's stockings, but he said nothing.
Aunt Emma tapped at the door, and out came a stout kind-looking woman.
"Mrs.Tyson, do you think your Johnny could lend my little nephew a pair of his stockings while we get his own washed?
Master Olly has been tumbling into a bog by way of making friends with the mountains, and I don't quite know how I am to let those legs into my dining-room." "Dear me, ma'am, but Johnny'll be proud if he's got any clean, but I'll not answer for it.

Won't ye come in ?" In they walked, and there was a nice tidy kitchen, with a wooden cradle in the corner, and a little fair-haired boy sitting by it and rocking the baby.

This was Johnny, and Olly looked at him with great curiosity.
"I've got bigger legs than Johnny," he whispered solemnly at last to Aunt Emma, while they were waiting for Mrs.Tyson, who had gone upstairs to fetch the stockings.
"Perhaps you eat more bread and milk than Johnny does," said Aunt Emma, very solemnly too, "However, most likely Johnny's stockings will stretch.

How's the baby, Johnny ?" "She's a great deal better, ma'am," said the little boy, smiling at her.
Milly and Olly made him feel shy, but he loved Aunt Emma.
"Have you been taking care of her all the morning for mother ?" "Yes, ma'am, and she's never cried but once," said Johnny proudly.
"Well done! Ah! there comes Mrs.Tyson.Now, Olly, sit up on that chair, and we'll see to you." Off came the dirty stockings, and Mrs.Tyson slipped on a pair of woolen socks that tickled Olly very much.

They were very thick, and not a bit like his own stockings; and when he got up again he kept turning round and round to look at his legs, as if he couldn't make them out.
"Do they feel funny to you ?" said Mrs.Tyson, patting his shoulder.
"Never you mind, little master; I know they're nice and warm, for I knitted them myself." "Mother buys our stockings in the shop," said Olly, when they got outside again; "why doesn't Mrs.Tyson ?" "Perhaps we haven't so many shops, or such nice ones here, Olly, as you have at Willingham; and the people here have always been used to do a great many things for themselves.