The Larks Nest \ i 



it. Bill's sturdy legs tramped on as before, but 

 his thoughts had suddenly taken flight. There 

 was nothing else to think of, and for a minute or 

 two he was away in English midlands, making his 

 way in heavy boots and gaiters to the fields at 

 daybreak, with the dew glistening on the turnip- 

 leaves, and the Larks singing overhead. In those 

 early morning trudges, before work drove all else 

 from his mind, he used to think of a certain Polly, 

 the blooming daughter of the blacksmith ; so 

 he thought of Polly now. Her vision stayed 

 awhile, and then gave way to his mother and the 

 rest of them in that little thatched cottage 

 shrinking away from the road by the horsepond ; 

 and then the Rectory came in sight just beyond, 

 and the old parson's black gaiters and knotted 

 stick. Bill, the parson's schoolboy, bringing 

 home one day a lark's nest entire with four 

 e gg s had come upon the parson by the gate, 

 and shrunk from the look of that stick. 



Bill had put the nest behind him, but it was 

 too late ; and he was straightway turned back 

 the way he came, and told to replace the nest 

 where he found it. 



