The beginning of March brought such delightful, mild, balmy weather that winter seemed to have gathered her chilly garments together and said good-bye. The month came in like a lamb, and, though it would probably justify the old proverb by going out like a lion, in the meantime the sunshine was pleasant, and everyone enjoyed the foretaste of spring. Miss Kaye, never slow to take advantage of the bright days, announced one Saturday at breakfast-time that the girls might put on their thickest boots, and prepare for a ramble up the hills.
"We will start at once," she said, "to get the best of the morning, and carry sandwiches in our pockets. Then we can return here for tea at four o'clock."
The expedition was considered too far for the little ones, but the third class was of course included, and all its eight members set off in wild spirits. Though Sylvia was in her second term at Heathercliffe House, she had not seen much of the beautiful country in the neighbourhood; the weather in the autumn had been too damp for picnics, and they had only gone walks on the outskirts of the town, or occasionally on to the beach or along the promenade.
Miss Kaye had made a wise choice when she decided to establish her school at Aberglyn. It had the advantage of both mountain and sea air, and was within easy reach of a number of interesting places. The goal of to-day's walk was a Druids' circle which lay high up on a steep mountainside overlooking the sea, and to reach it would require a climb of several hours. Their way, after leading at first along a suburban road, lined with pretty houses and gardens, began to grow more countrified, and at last they climbed over a stile into a romantic-looking wood. It was the foot of a gorge through which flowed a splendid torrent, dashing its way over great boulders, and the glen was so sheltered that ferns were growing even on the trunks and branches of the trees, and the moss was like a green carpet under foot.
The girls of course rushed down to the edge of the stream, scrambling over the rocks, flinging stones into the water, and trying to make pebbles skim on the smooth pools. Luckily nobody fell in, though both Connie and Brenda had such a narrow escape that Miss Kaye called her flock to order, and bade them march on once more up the proper path.
The trees gradually began to give way to grassy banks which were already spangled with celandine, coltsfoot, and actually a few early primroses; the hazel bushes were covered with catkins that sent showers of golden pollen over the children when they gathered them, and in a cosy sheltered spot in the hedge they found a thrush's nest with three blue eggs in it.
"How sweet of her to build just here!" said Sylvia, looking with deep interest at the clay-lined structure so cunningly hidden behind a long spray of ivy, "I can't think how she did it all with her beak. Isn't she clever? Oh, Connie, please don't lift out the eggs! I'm sure you'll break them. She won't come back while we're here, so let us go away, or else they'll get quite cold, and won't hatch out."
"Look what I've found!" cried Marian, climbing up the bank with a small white starlike flower in her hand. "Isn't it early? It's a piece of saxifrage."
"No, that's stitchwort," said Sylvia, who had learnt a little botany at home, and liked to air her knowledge.
"It's saxifrage," said Marian decidedly. "My mother told me so once herself."