PATH THROUGH THE CORNFIELDS 125 



comes into view, and lights on the selfsame spot. 

 The tactics are repeated a little more wildly this 

 time. The painted lady embarks on a second 

 frolicsome course, to return in the same tantalising 

 way as before. And so on, until the children are 

 fain to gather up flowers and cans and pursue their 

 way. 



The rowans are reddening, and the elderberries 

 blackening. The woodbine is still shedding fra- 

 grance from an arch of fantastic flowers. The 

 haws, with which the hedge abounds, are just 

 showing a touch of colour on one side. Hips 

 have taken the place of the dog-roses. 



The big thistle is at its tallest, and sends out on 

 all sides giant arms, bearing great pink heads. A 

 crowd of thrushes are busy on the beam tree. A 

 smaller band of children are equally busy on he 

 unripe haws. 



This is all they see until they are coming back. 

 And then they catch sight of their elder sisters 

 sauntering up the way as if to meet them, but 

 really on an errand of their own. At great risk of 

 falling, and to the sound of jolting milk, they strive 

 who will touch first. 



Tall in comparison with the little ones these 

 sisters are. Some fair, some dark ; neither more 



