That high-pitched roof, with the clumps of stonecrop on the walls near it, is Canon Wilson's, whose four little girls I am to teach.

Hark! the great cathedral clock.

How proud I used to be of its great boom when I was a child! I thought all the other church clocks in the town sounded so shrill and poor after that, which I considered mine especially.

There are rooks flying home to the elms in the Close.

I wonder if they are the same that used to be there when I was a girl.