on't know where the sound comes from. They're just like the
corn-crakes."

"I've read about corn-crakes," I said.

"Well, there's plenty here. You wait till night, and I'll open our
bedroom window, and you can hear them craking away down in the meadows.
You never can tell whereabouts they are, though, and you very seldom see
them. They're light brown birds."

We were walking on now, and twice over he stopped, smiling at me, so
that I could listen to the night-jars, making their whirring noise in
the wood.

"Now, was I cramming you?" he said.

"No, and I will not doubt you again. Why, what a lot you know about
country things!"

"Not I. That's nothing. You soon pick up all that. Ever hear a
nightingale?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Then you haven't. You'll hear them to-night, if it's fine, singing
away in the copses, and answering one another for miles round."

"Why, this must be a beautiful place, then?"

"I should think it is--it's lovely. I don't mean the school; I hate
that, and the way they bore you over the lessons, and the more stupid
you are, the harder they are upon you. I'm always catching it. 'Tain't
my fault I'm so stupid."

I looked at him sharply, for he seemed to me to be crammed full of
knowledge.

"The Doctor told me one day I was a miserable young idiot, and that I
thought about nothing but birds and butterflies. Can't help it. I like
to. I say, we'll go egging as soon as we've seen the owls. Wonder
whether I can get an owl's egg for my collection. I've got two
night-jars'."

"Out of the nest?"

"They don't make any nest; I found them just as they were laid on some
chips, where they were cutting down and trimming young trees for
hop-poles. Such beauties! But come along. Yes, he said I was a young
idiot, but father don't mind my wanting to collect things. He likes
natural history, and mamma collects plants, and names them. She can
tell you the names of all the flowers you pass by, and--whisht--snake!"

"Where? Where?"

"Only gone across here," said my companion, pointing to a winding track
in the dusty road, showing where the reptile must have crossed from one
side to the other.

"Which way did he go?" I said; "let's hunt him."

"No good," said my companion quietly. "He's off down some hole long
enough ago. Never mind him; I can show you plenty of snakes in the
woods, and adders too."

"They sting, don't they?" I said.

"No."

"They do. Adders or vi