JOHN-GO-TO-BED-AT-NOON 319 
turned to bright yellow with some tall flower that 
looked like ragwort among the grasses. 
“What’s happened to your field—what is that 
yellow weed in it?” I said to my man. 
“Oh, that’s only ” then he pulled himself up, 
thinking in time that I might be of the polite-eared 
tribe. ‘“That’s a yellow flower,” he finished. 
“Yes, I see it is,” said I. “Il have a look at 
your flower after lunch.” — 
But the pleasure of luncheon, especially of the 
omelettes my landlady made so wonderfully well, 
caused me to forget all about it. 
About three o’clock I was out walking, half a 
mile from the house, when I looked back from the 
high ground at the village beneath me, and my eye 
rested on the field about which we had talked that 
mco-ning. “Now what was it about that field?” 
said I to myself, trying to recover something all 
but forgotten. Then I remembered that at noon 
it had appeared all a sheet of yellow colour and was 
now of a uniform deep rather dull green! It was 
very odd, but I had no time to investigate until 
the following morning when, on visiting the field 
about ten o’clock, I saw it in all its glory, the 
whole area resplendent. with its multitudinous 
crowded blooms of the dandelion orange-yellow, 
the most luminous colour in Nature; and but for 
the wind that waved the tall plants like a field of 
corn, mingling the vivid flower-tint with the green 
beneath, the colour would have been too dazzling 
in that brilliant sunshine. But it was the sunlight 
