At Elmridge, scattered here and there through garden and grounds, as Mr.
Kyle liked to have them, there were some fruit trees of every kind that
would flourish in that part of the country, but there was no orchard;
and for this reason Miss Harson had taken the children to see the grand
apple-blossoming at Farmer Grove's. Two very large pear trees stood one
on either side of the lawn, and there were dwarf pear trees in
the garden.
"I think pears are nicer than apples," said Clara as they stood looking
at the fine trees, now perfectly covered with their snowy blossoms.
But Malcolm, who found it hard work to be happy on three apples a day,
stoutly disagreed with his sister on this point, and declared that
nothing was so good as apples.
"How about ice-cream?" asked his governess, when she heard this sweeping
assertion.
The young gentleman was silent, for his exploits with this frozen luxury
were a constant subject of wonder to his friends and relatives.
"You will notice," said Miss Harson, "that the shape of these trees is
much more graceful than that of the apple tree. They are tall and
slender, forming what is called an imperfect pyramid. Standard pear
trees, like these, give a good shade, and the long, slender branches are
well clothed with leaves of a bright, glossy green. This rich color
lasts late into the autumn, and it is then varied with yellow, and often
with red and black, spots; so that pear-leaves are not to be despised in
gathering autumn-leaf treasures.
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