he ceremonies she witnessed.

One or two points evidently made a great impression upon her. During the
spring months Nature lore was very much to the fore, and the members
qualified for candidateship to the various grades by exhibiting their
knowledge of the ways and habits of birds. Notes of observations were
read aloud at the meetings, particulars recorded of nests that had been
built in the school grounds, with data as to the number of days in which
eggs were hatched and the young ones fledged. It was an unwritten law at
The Woodlands never to disturb the birds. The girls were not allowed to
take any eggs from the nests, and were taught not to frighten a sitting
bird or to interfere with the fledge-lings. After several years of such
consideration The Woodlands had become a kind of bird sanctuary, where
the little songsters appeared to know they were free from molestation.
That the fruit in the garden suffered rather a heavy toll was true; but,
as Miss Bowes remarked: "One can't have everything. We must remember how
many insects they clear away, and not grudge them a few currants and
gooseberries. They pay us by their lovely songs in the spring."

Ulyth was a great devotee of Nature study, and had the supreme
satisfaction of being the first to discover that a pair of long-tailed
tits were building in a gorse-bush down the paddock. She was immensely
excited, for they were rather rare birds in that district, and generally
nested much higher up on the hills. This was indeed the only instance on
record of their having selected The Woodlands for their domestic
operations. As she had made the discovery, it was her particular
privilege to take the observations, and every day she would go very
quietly and cautiously and seat herself near the spot to note the doings
of the shy little architects. It was a subject of intense interest to
watch the globular nest grow, and then to ascertain, when the parents
were out of the way, that eggs had actually been laid in it. Ulyth was
so afraid of disturbing the tits that she conducted her daily
observations alone, fearing lest even Lizzie's presence might frighten
them. "When there are two of us we can't help talking, and an unusual
sound scares them worse than anything," she decided.

One morning she started for her daily expedition to the paddock. The
little hen had been sitting long enough to make Ulyth think the eggs
must surely be hatched, and that probably the parents were both al