CHAPTER. 
ON THE MOORLANDS IN THE MONTH OF JUNE 
Ou! the glories of a fine June day! Such 
a day we had before us wherein to pursue our 
quest. Ted told me he had found a wren’s 
nest, so off we went to take a photograph 
of it. Leaving the smoky train, we soon 
trod the cool green grass, intending to follow 
a winding stream that led to uplands a few 
miles ahead. The pretty whitewashed Lock 
House on the river bank tempted us to rest 
awhile. On the common, not far off, reposed 
a flock of geese, unheeding the approach of 
Michaelmas and apple sauce. But why were 
they alarmed so suddenly? Was it that 
they had caught the fatal words from our 
lips as we discoursed of them ? And then a 
biscuit thrown amongst a group of their first 
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