er.

The lapwing tripped with short steps among the hillocks, and nodded its
head discreetly. It had no great faith in the lark, and repeated its
wary "Bi litt! Bi litt!" [Note: "Wait a bit! Wait a bit!" Pronounced
_Bee leet_] A couple of mallards lay snuggling in a marsh-hole, and the
elder one was of opinion that spring would not come until we had rain.

Far on into May the meadows were still yellow; only here and there on
the sunny leas was there any appearance of green. But if you lay down
upon the earth you could see a multitude of little shoots--some thick,
others as thin as green darning-needles--which thrust their heads
cautiously up through the mould. But the north wind swept so coldly over
them that they turned yellow at the tips, and looked as if they would
like to creep back again.

But that they could not do; so they stood still and waited, only
sprouting ever so little in the midday sun.

The mallard was right; it was rain they wanted. And at last it
came--cold in the beginning, but gradually warmer; and when it was over
the sun came out in earnest. And now you would scarcely have known
it again; it shone warmly, right from the early morning till the late
evening, so that the nights were mild and moist.

Then an immense activity set in; everything was behindhand, and had to
make up for lost time. The petals burst from the full buds with a little
crack, and all the big and little shoots made a sudden rush. They darted
out stalks, now to the one side, now to the other, as quickly as though
they lay kicking with green legs. The meadows were spangled with flowers
and weeds, and the heather slopes towards the sea began to light up.

Only the yellow sand along the shore remained as it was; it has no
flowers to deck itself with, and lyme-grass is all its finery. Therefore
it piles itself up into great mounds, seen far and wide along the shore,
on which the long soft stems sway like a green banner.

There the sand-pipers ran about so fast that their legs looked like
a piece of a tooth comb. The sea-gulls walked on the beach, where the
waves could sweep over their legs. They held themselves sedately, their
heads depressed and their crops protruded, like old ladies in muddy
weather.

The sea-pie stood with his heels together, in his tight trousers, his
black swallow-tail, and his white waistcoat.

"Til By'n! Til By'n!" he cried [Note: "To Town! To Town!"], and at each
cry he made a quick little bow, so tha