"Look here!" said Humphrey, holding up his basket; "did you ever see such a quantity?"
Miles looked a little nervously at the white exteriors of Humphrey's mushrooms.
"Mine are quite different, Humphie."
"You haven't been picking fungus, I hope?" exclaimed Humphrey, stopping short.
"Oh, no!" said Miles, quickly—"at least I don't think I have," he added doubtfully, "But what is fungus, Humphie?"
"Toadstools," answered Humphrey, "horrid big yellow toads; there are lots of them about in the fields. Where are they, Miles? Show them to me, quick!"
"They're under the trees," said Miles; and both boys set off running.
"Toads, every one!" proclaimed Humphrey, emptying the basket on the ground. "Not one mushroom in the lot. Why, Miles! do you know they're poison?"
Miles stood aghast—the awe of the announcement completely softening the disappointment.