The Cottage in the Woods Read Online Free PDF Page B

reciting the alphabet, and could count to twenty. He also knew several of the stories from his storybooks by heart, and recited them as we turned the pages, making up little improvements here and there when the mood took him. I was charmed by these imaginative touches, and suggested that I could help him to write down stories of his own invention. This met with such enthusiasm that he wanted to begin right away, and I, capitalizing on the moment, sat with him and wrote while he spun me a fantastic yarn, peopled with brave and resourceful young bears, all manner of wizards and witches, and hideous fire-breathing dragons. When he had finished, I read it back to him word for word, and had the pleasure of seeing his soft brown eyes glow with delight. Suddenly he saw writing as a magical tool, something that could make his imaginings come to life, something he was eager to learn. I promised him that we would begin the very next day to make letters into words, looking forward to the day when he would be able to write his own stories.
    In no time, it seemed, the lunch hour came, and I rang for Betsy and requested that we have a tray prepared to take outdoors. As this troubled no one, we found a comfortable spot under an enormous old oak, and ate our lunch of aged cheese, a dark, wholesome bread, and sweet mead. Then, while Teddy lay reluctantly down for his rest in the nursery, I spent my time gettingready for our nature hike. I found that the schoolroom was complete with nets, collecting jars, and an assortment of books on local flora and fauna. I was packing several collecting jars and a book on birds into a satchel when Mr. Vaughn entered the schoolroom with a most serious expression. “So, Miss Brown, I have just come from the nursery. Theodore tells me that he spent the morning making up stories. Is this true?”
    “Yes, sir,” I almost squeaked.
    “And what is the reason for this? Surely you have better things to teach him than that!”
    “It was a writing exercise, sir,” I managed to respond. “I thought that writing his own story would excite his interest in learning to read and write.”
    “I suggest you excite his interest using something with a basis in fact, such as ‘Jack and the Beanstalk,’ or ‘Snow White and the Seven Elves.’ ”
    “
Elves
, sir?”
    “Yes. Yes,
Dwarfs
. That’s what I said. The important thing is to stick to the history books!”
    “Yes, sir. I shall look into it. Just the facts,” I responded as I secretly crossed my claws under the tabletop. The truth was, I abhorred the idea of stifling Teddy’s splendid imagination. Though I was new to being a governess, I was still a cub at heart, and I remembered how a young cub’s mind worked, and how to spark its interest. I thought I could find a way to pay lip service to Mr. Vaughn’s directions while continuing with my own program.
    That afternoon found Teddy and me meandering along the banks of Ambleworthy Stream, as delightful a body of water as one could wish for, bubbling gleefully as it slipped and plungedover black rocks, and resting here and there in transparent pools filled with frogs and minnows. Teddy and I were conversing on subjects from eating one’s Brussels sprouts, of which he did not approve, to the saying of rhyming prayers, of which he did, and on to the finer points of making kite tails and spitwads. We had captured and identified four different insects, including a water bug and two butterflies, and hoped to catch several more.
    Teddy was proud of his proficiency with the net, and prouder still to be my tour guide. I could tell by the soft, ever-present roar that we were near the waterfall. The path took a turn away from the stream, and into the deep woods, where the view was obscured for a space of time. Suddenly we stepped out of the woods and into a sunlit glade. There in front of us was a sheer rock face, perhaps sixty yards high, with a curtain of white water tumbling down, down, into a pillow of mist.