"Sit down," said Sandy, doing the honours; and we all sat down under the hedge.
"There are violets just behind us," he continued. "Can't you smell them? But whatever you do, don't tell anybody of those, or we shan't keep our field to ourselves for a day. And look here." He had turned over on to his face, and Richard and I did the same, whilst Sandy fumbled among the bleached grass and brown leaves.
"Hyacinths," said Richard, as Sandy displayed the green tops of them.
"As thick as peas," said Sandy. "This bank will be blue in a few weeks; and fiddle-heads everywhere. There will be no end of ferns. May to any extent—it's only in bud yet—and there's a wren's nest in there——" At this point he rolled suddenly over on to his back and looked up.
"A lark," he explained; "there was one singing its head off, this morning. I say, Dick, this will be a good field for a kite, won't it? But wait a bit."
After every fresh thing that Sandy showed us in our field, he always finished by saying, "Wait a bit"; and that was because there was always something else better still.
"There's a brook at the bottom there," he said, "with lots of fresh-water shrimps. I wonder whether they would boil red. But wait a bit. This hedge, you see, has got a very high bank, and it's worn into kind of ledges. I think we could play at 'shops' there—but wait a bit."
"It's almost too good, Sandy dear!" said I, as we crossed the field to the opposite hedge.
"The best is to come," said Sandy. "I've a very good mind not to let it out till to-morrow." And to our distraction he sat down in the middle of the field, put his arms round his knees, as if we were playing at "Honey-pots," and rocked himself backwards and forwards with a face of brimming satisfaction.
Neither Richard nor I would have been so mean as to explore on our own account, when the field was Sandy's discovery, but we tried hard to persuade him to show us everything.