as gorgeous: bramble, elder, honeysuckle, briony, rowan,
and alder vied with one another in the vividness of their crimson and
orange, while the bracken was a sea of pale gold. There were all sorts
of delightful things to be found--acorns lay so plentifully in the
pathway that the girls could not help scrunching them underfoot. A few
were already sending out tiny shoots in anticipation of spring, and
these were carefully saved to take home and grow in bottles. A stream
ran through the wood, its banks almost completely covered with vivid
green mosses, in sheets so thick and compact that a slight pull would
raise a yard at a time. Some resembled tufted tassels, some the most
delicate ferns, and others showed the split cups of their seed-vessels
like pixie goblets. Annie Hardy, whose experienced eyes were on the
look-out for certain botanical treasures reported to grow at Monkend,
was searching among the dead twigs under the hazel bushes, and was
rewarded by finding a clump of the curious little birds-nest fungus with
its seeds packed like tiny eggs inside. Some orange elf-cups, a bright
red toadstool or two, and a few of the larger purple varieties that had
lingered on from October made quite a creditable fungus record for the
League, and specimens of wild flowers were also secured, a belated
foxglove or two, a clump of ragwort, some blue harebells, campion,
herb-robert, buttercup, yarrow, thistle, and actually a strawberry
blossom. The leaders had brought note-books and wrote down each find as
reported by the members, taking the specimens for Miss Lever to verify
if there were any doubt as to identification. Animal and bird life was
not absent. Shy bunnies whisked away, showing a dab of white tail as
they dived under the bracken; a splendid squirrel ran across the path
and darted up an oak tree, a wood-pigeon whirred from a pine top, a
great woodpecker, scared by their approach, started from the bushes and
flew past them so near that they could see the green flash of its wings
and the red markings on its head, while a whole fluttering flight of
long-tailed tits were flitting like a troop of fairies round the hole of
a lichen-covered beech.

Miss Lever was as enthusiastic as the girls; she climbed over fallen
tree trunks, grubbed among dead leaves, jumped the brook and scaled
fences with delightful energy. It was she who pointed out the heron
sailing overhead, and noticed the gold-crested wren's nest hanging under
the bra