We always want the spring and summer and autumn and winter to get along faster than they do.

But this year Arthur and Harry were very impatient with summer.
They were nearly caught one day by Father coming home just as they had got through the gates with Michael's old sack full of road-scrapings, instead of sand (we have not any sand growing near us, and silver sand is rather dear), but we did get leaves together and stacked them to rot into leaf mould.
Leaf mould is splendid stuff, but it takes a long time for the leaves to get mouldy, and it takes a great many too.

Arthur is rather impatient, and he used to say--"I never saw leaves stick on to branches in such a way.

I mean to get into some of these old trees and give them a good shaking to remind them what time of year it is.

If I don't we shan't have anything like enough leaves for our compost.".