Trees aren't much company, though dear knows if they were there'd be enough of them.
I'd ruther look at people.
To be sure, they seem contented enough; but then, I suppose, they're used to it.
A body can get used to anything, even to being hanged, as the Irishman said."
With this Mrs. Rachel stepped out of the lane into the backyard of Green Gables.
Very green and neat and precise was that yard, set about on one side with great patriarchal willows and the other with prim Lombardies.
Not a stray stick nor stone was to be seen, for Mrs. Rachel would have seen it if there had been.
Privately she was of the opinion that Marilla Cuthbert swept that yard over as often as she swept her house.
One could have eaten a meal off the ground without overbrimming the proverbial peck of dirt.
Mrs. Rachel rapped smartly at the kitchen door and stepped in when bidden to do so.