And so the two in high glee started behind old Dobbin,
and jogged along the deep-rutted plashy roads, which had not been mended
after their winter's wear, towards the dwelling of the wizard. About
noon they passed the gate which opened on to the large common, and old
Dobbin toiled slowly up the hill, while Benjy pointed out a little deep
dingle on the left, out of which welled a tiny stream. As they crept
up the hill the tops of a few birch-trees came in sight, and blue smoke
curling up through their delicate light boughs; and then the little
white thatched home and inclosed ground of Farmer Ives, lying cradled in
the dingle, with the gay gorse common rising behind and on both sides;
while in front, after traversing a gentle slope, the eye might travel
for miles and miles over the rich vale. They now left the main road and
struck into a green track over the common marked lightly with wheel and
horse-shoe, which led down into the dingle and stopped at the rough gate
of Farmer Ives. Here they found the farmer, an iron-gray old man, with a
bushy eyebrow and strong aquiline nose, busied in one of his vocations.
He was a horse and cow doctor, and was tending a sick beast which had
been sent up to be cured. Benjy hailed him as an old friend, and he
returned the greeting cordially enough, looking however hard for a
moment both at Benjy and Tom, to see whether there was more in their
visit than appeared at first sight.
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