Thompson was satisfied that we had enjoyed ourselves. We dispersed
afterwards in little groups for a ramble round the fields, and in the
pretty shady wood which lay at the foot of the dell.

"Lilies-of-the-valley?" said Mrs. Thompson, in response to our eager
enquiries. "Ay, there's a many of them down in yon clough. We call 'em
'snow-bobs' about here. Ye can pluck till ye're tired if ye've a mind."

"Come along, Phil!" cried Cathy; and we started down the path between
the springing corn, running for pure joy of the fresh air and sunshine,
and snatching as we passed at the lacy flowers of the wild cornel which
hung over the hedgerow like masses of snow. A broad brook flowed through
the little glade, and on either side, under the shade of the overhanging
trees, grew the lilies-of-the-valley in such sweet profusion that the
whole air seemed full of their delicious perfume. We ran here and there
half wild with delight, burying our noses in the fragrant blossoms, and
picking until our hands were full.

"Aren't they glorious?" said I.

"Simply perfect!" said Cathy.

"I want to sniff them all up!" said Janet, who with a few other girls
had followed us.

"The fourth class are coming down the hill," said Ernestine. "They'll
have to be quick, or they won't find any left."

"There are plenty on the other side of the water," I said, "if we could
only manage to get over. I should like to pick a particularly nice
bunch for Mrs. Marshall"; and I looked doubtfully at the trunk of a tree
which had been laid across the brook to serve as a rough kind of bridge.
There had been some attempt at a handrail, for a long pole swung from
two ropes tied to the trees on either side, but it was of such a very
shaky and insecure description that it would be barely sufficient to
steady one's self by in the crossing.

"It doesn't look at all safe," declared Janet. "You won't catch me
trying such a perilous path for all the flowers in the world."

"I think I shall venture," I said, "the lilies look so much finer over
there. Only mind you don't shake the pole while I'm crossing; it's
unsteady enough as it is."

The round tree-trunk did not make a very firm foothold, and the swinging
handrail felt the most insecure of supports when I started on to the
bridge. I went along with great caution, one step at a time, trying to
balance myself steadily and not to think of the rushing water below.

"Very good! Very good indeed!" called Cathy from the