THE WANING SEASON 



CHAPTER XII 



THE WANING SEASON 



f ^HE season was wearing out apace. 



An unusually dry spring brought the 



country forward, and set the farmers to 



their fences and their fields. Ploughs and harrows 



were going, grain was scattering, and Reynard 



was telegraphed wherever he went. 



' You bain't a comin' this way again, I s'pose,' 

 observed each hedger, as he drove his stakes 

 into the ground to stop up the gaps. 



The hazel-drops began to hang from the 

 bushes, the larch assumed a greenish tint, and 

 the groves echoed to the sound of minstrelsy. 

 The wood-pigeons had long been exhorting Davy 

 to take two cows, when he was about it 



' Take two coos, Davy, 

 Take two coos,' 



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