thinking　meantime　what　a　delightful　parting　gift　they　would　be　for
  Phoebe；　I　mean　if　we　ever　should　part；　which　seems　more　and　more
  unlikely；　as　I　shall　never　leave　Thornycroft　until　somebody　comes
  properly　to　fetch　me；　indeed；　unless　the　〃fetching〃　is　done
  somewhat　speedily　I　may　decline　to　go　under　any　circumstances。　　My
  indecision　as　to　the　purchase　was　finally　banished　when　the
  poultryman　asserted　that　the　fowls　had　clear　open　centres　all　over；
  black　lacing　entirely　round　the　white　centres；　were　free　from　white
  edging；　and　each　had　a　cherry…red　eye。　　This　catalogue　of　charms
  inflamed　my　imagination；　though　it　gave　me　no　mental　picture　of　a
  silver　Wyandotte　fowl；　and　I　paid　the　money　while　the　dealer
  crammed　the　chicks；　squawking　into　my　five…o'clock　tea…basket。
  The　afternoon　session　of　the　conference　was　most　exciting；　for　we
  reached　the　subject　of　imported　eggs；　an　industry　that　is　assuming
  terrifying　proportions。　　The　London　hotel　egg　comes　from　Denmark；
  it　seems；I　should　think　by　sailing　vessel；　not　steamer；　but　I　may
  be　wrong。　　After　we　had　settled　that　the　British　Hen　should　be
  protected　and　encouraged；　and　agreed　solemnly　to　abstain　from
  Danish　eggs　in　any　form；　and　made　a　resolution　stating　that　our
  loyalty　to　Queen　Alexandra　would　remain　undiminished；　we　argued　the
  subject　of　hen　diet。　　There　was　a　great　difference　of　opinion　here
  and　the　discussion　was　heated；　the　honorary　treasurer　standing　for
  pulped　mangold　and　flint　grit；　the　chair　insisting　on　barley　meal
  and　randans；　while　one　eloquent　young　woman　declared；　to　loud　cries
  of　〃'Ear；　'ear！〃　that　rice　pudding　and　bone　chips　produce　more　eggs
  to　the　square　hen　than　any　other　sort　of　food。　　Impassioned　orators
  arose　here　and　there　in　the　audience　demanding　recognition　for　beef
  scraps；　charcoal；　round　corn　or　buckwheat。　　Foods　were　regarded
  from　various　standpoints：　　as　general　invigorators；　growth
  assisters；　and　egg　producers。　　A　very　handsome　young　farmer　carried
  off　final　honours；　and　proved　to　the　satisfaction　of　all　the
  feminine　poultry…raisers　that　green　young　hog　bones　fresh　cut　in
  the　Banner　Bone　Breaker　（of　which　he　was　the　agent）　possessed　a
  nutritive　value　not　to　be　expressed　in　human　language。
  Phoebe　was　distinctly　nervous　when　I　rose　to　say　a　few　words　on
  poultry　breeding；　announcing　as　my　topic　〃Mothers；　Stepmothers；
  Foster…Mothers；　and　Incubators。〃　　Protected　by　the　consciousness
  that　no　one　in　the　assemblage　could　possibly　know　me；　I　made　a
  distinct　success　in　my　maiden　speech；　indeed；　I　somewhat　overshot
  the　mark；　for　the　Countess　in　the　chair　sent　me　a　note　asking　me　to
  dine　with　her　that　evening。　　I　suppressed　the　note　and　took　Phoebe
  away　before　the　proceedings　were　finished；　vanishing　from　the　scene
  of　my　triumphs　like　a　veiled　prophet。
  Just　as　we　were　passing　out　the　door　we　paused　to　hear　the　report
  of　a　special　committee　whose　chairman　read　the　following
  resolutions：…
  WHEREAS；It　has　pleased　the　Almighty　to　remove　from　our　midst　our
  greatest　Rose　Comb　Buff　Orpington　fancier　and　esteemed　friend；
  Albert　Edward　Sheridain；　therefore　be　it
  RESOLVED；That　the　next　edition　of　our　catalogue　contain　an
  illustrated　memorial　page　in　his　honour　and
  RESOLVED；That　the　Rose　Comb　Buff　Orpington　Club　extend　to　the
  bereaved　family　their　heartfelt　sympathy。
  The　handsome　young　farmer　followed　us　out　to　our　trap；　invited　us
  to　attend　the　next　meeting　of　the　R。　C。　B。　O。　Club；　of　which　he　was
  the　secretary；　and　asked　if　I　were　intending　to　〃show。〃　　I
  introduced　Phoebe　as　the　senior　partner；　and　she　concealed　the　fact
  that　we　possessed　but　one　Buff　Orpington；　and　he　was　a　sad
  〃invaleed〃　not　suitable　for　exhibition。　　The　farmer's　expression　as
  he　looked　at　me　was　almost　lover…like；　and　when　he　pressed　a　bit　of
  paper　into　my　hand　I　was　sure　it　must　be　an　offer　of　marriage。　　It
  was　in　fact　only　a　circular　describing　the　Banner　Bone　Breaker。　　It
  closed　with　an　appeal　to　Buff　Orpington　breeders　to　raise　and　ever
  raise　the　standard；　bidding　them　remember；　in　the　midst　of　a　low…
  minded　and　sordid　civilisation；　that　the　rose　comb　should　be　small
  and　neat；　firmly　set　on；　with　good　working；　a　nice　spike　at　the
  back　lying　well　down　to　head；　and　never；　under　any　circumstances；
  never　sticking　up。　　This　adjuration　somewhat　alarmed　us　as　Phoebe
  and　I　had　been　giving　our　Buff　Orpington　cockerel　the　most　drastic
  remedies　for　his　languid　and　prostrate　comb。
  Coming　home　we　alighted　from　the　trap　to　gather　hogweed　for　the
  rabbits。　　I　sat　by　the　wayside　lazily　and　let　Phoebe　gather　the
  appetising　weed；　which　grows　along　the　thorniest　hedges　in　close
  proximity　to　nettles　and　thistles。
  Workmen　were　trudging　along　with　their　luncheon…baskets　of　woven
  bulrushes　slung　over　their　shoulders。　　Fields　of　ripening　grain　lay
  on　either　hand；　the　sun　shining　on　their　every　shade　of　green　and
  yellow；　bronze　and　orange；　while　the　breeze　stirred　the　bearded
  barley　into　a　rippling　golden　sea。
  Phoebe　asked　me　if　the　people　I　had　left　behind　at　the　Hydropathic
  were　my　relatives。
  〃Some　of　them　are　of　remote　consanguinity；〃　I　responded　evasively；
  and　the　next　question　was　hushed　upon　her　awe…stricken　tongue；　as　I
  intended。
  〃They　are　obeying　my　wish　to　be　let　alone；　there's　no　doubt　of
  that；〃　I　was　thinking。　　〃For　my　part；　I　like　a　little　more　spirit；
  and　a　little　less　〃letter〃！〃
  As　the　word　〃letter〃　flitted　through　my　thoughts；　I　pulled　one　from
  my　pocket　and　glanced　through　it　carelessly。　　It　arrived；　somewhat
  tardily；　only　last　night；　or　I　should　not　have　had　it　with　me。　　I
  wore　the　same　dress　to　the　post…office　yesterday　that　I　wore　to　the
  Hen　Conference　to…day；　and　so　it　chanced　to　be　still　in　the　pocket。
  If　it　had　been　anything　I　valued；　of　course　I　should　have　lost　or
  destroyed　it　by　mistake；　it　is　only　silly；　worthless　little　things
  like　this　that　keep　turning　up　and　turning　up　after　one　has
  forgotten　their　existence。
  〃You　are　a　mystery！〃　＇it　ran。＇　　〃I　can　apprehend；　but　not
  comprehend　you。　　I　know　you　in　part。　　I　understand　various　bits　of
  your　nature；　but　my　knowledge　is　always　fragmentary　and
  disconnected；　and　when　I　attempt　to　make　a　whole　of　the　mosaics　I
  merely　get　a　kaleidoscopic　effect。　　Do　you　know　those　geographical
  dissected　puzzles　that　they　give　to　children？　　You　remind　me　of　one
  of　them。
  〃I　have　spent　many　charming　（and　dangerous）　hours　trying　to　〃put
  you　together〃；　but　I　find；　when　I　examine　my　picture　closely；　that
  after　all　I've　made　a　purple　mountain　grow　out　of　a　green　tree；
  that　my　river　is　running　up　a　steep　hillside；　and　that　the　pretty
  milkmaid；　who　should　be　wandering　in　the　forest；　is　standing　on　her
  head　with　her　pail　in　the　air
  〃Do　you　understand　yourself　clearly？　　Or　is　it　just　possible　that
  when　you　dive　to　the　depths　of　your　own　consciousness；　you
  sometimes　find　the　pretty　milkmaid　standing　on　her　head？　　I
  wonder！〃　。　。　。
  Ah；　well；　it　is　no　wonder　that　he　wonders！　　　So　do　I；　for　that
  matter！
  CHAPTER　XII
  July　17th。
  Thornycroft　Farm　seems　to　be　the　musical　centre　of　the　universe。
  When　I　wake　very　early　in　the　morning　I　lie　in　a　drowsy　sort　of
  dream；　trying　to　disentangle；　one　from　the　other；　the　various　bird
  notes；　trills；　coos；　croons；　chirps；　chirrups；　and　warbles。
  Suddenly　there　falls　on　the　air　a　delicious；　liquid；　finished　song；
  so　pure；　so　mellow；　so　joyous；　that　I　go　to　the　window　and　look　out
  at　the　morning　world；　half　awakened；　like　myself。
  There　is　I　know　not　what　charm　in　a　window　that　does　not　push　up；
  but　opens　its　lattices　out　into　the　greenness。　　And　mine　is　like　a
  little　jewelled　door；　for　the　sun　is　shining　from　behind　the
  chimneys　and　lighting　the　tiny　diamond　panes　with　amber　flashes。
  A　faint　delicate　haze　lies　over　the　meadow；　and　rising　out　of　it；
  and　soaring　toward　the　blue　is　the　lark；　flinging　out　that
  matchless　matin　song；　so　rich；　so　thrilling；　so　lavish！　　As　the
  blithe　melody　fades　away；　I　hear　the　plaintive　ballad…fragments　of
  the　robin　on　a　curtsying　branch　near　my　window；　and　there　is　always
  the　liquid　pipe　of　the　thrush；　who　must　quaff　a　fairy　goblet　of　dew
  between　his　songs；　I　should　think；　so　fresh　and　eternally　young　is
  his　note。
  There　is　another　beautiful　song　that　I　follow　whenever　I　hear　it；
  straining　my　eyes　to　the　treetops；　yet　never　finding　a　bird　that　I
  can　identify　as　the　singer。　　Can　it　be　the　…
  〃Ousel…cock　so　black　of　hue；
  With　orange…tawny　bill〃？
  He　is　called　the　poet…laureate　of　the　primrose　time；　but　I　don't
  know　whether　he　sings　in　midsummer；　and　I　have　not　seen　him
  hereabouts。　　I　must　write　and　ask　my　dear　Man　of　the　North。　　The
  Man　of　the　North；　I　sometimes　think；　had　a　Fairy　Grandmother　who
  was　a　robin；　and　perhaps　she　made　a　nest　of　fresh　moss　and　put　him
  in　the　green　wood　when　he　was　a　wee　bairnie；　so　that　he　waxed　wise
  in　bird…lore　without　knowing　it。　　At　all　events；　describe　to　him
  the　cock　of　a　head；　the　glance　of　an　eye；　the　tip…up　of　a　tail；　or
  the　sheen　of　a　feather；　and　he　will　name　you　the　bird。　　Near…
  sighted　he　is；　too；　the　Man　of　the　North；　but　that　is　only　for
  people。
  The　Square　Baby　and　I　have　a　new　game。
  I　bought　a　doll's　table　and　china　tea…set　in　Buffington。　　We　put　it
  under　an　apple…tree　in　the　s