"The best is to come," said Sandy. "I've a very good mind not to let
it out till to-morrow." And to our distraction he sat down in the
middle of the field, put his arms round his knees, as if we were
playing at "Honey-pots," and rocked himself backwards and forwards
with a face of brimming satisfaction.
Neither Richard nor I would have been so mean as to explore on our own
account, when the field was Sandy's discovery, but we tried hard to
persuade him to show us everything.
He had the most provoking way of laughing and holding his tongue, and
he did that now, besides slowly turning all his pockets inside-out
into his hands, and mumbling up the crumbs and odd currants, saying,
"Guess!" between every mouthful.
But when there was not a crumb left in the seams of his pockets, Sandy
turned them back, and jumping up, said--"One can only tell a secret
once. It's a hollow oak. Come along!"
He ran and we ran, to the other side of Our Field. I had read of
hollow oaks, and seen pictures of them, and once I dreamed of one,
with a witch inside, but we had never had one to play in. We were
nearly wild with delight. It looked all solid from the field, but when
we pushed behind, on the hedge side, there was the door, and I crept
in, and it smelt of wood, and delicious damp.
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