"Really," said Arthur; "I'm glad I know that—how unlike our firs they are! They do very well, too, here, don't they? the spinney's full of them."
"What's that humbug he's telling you?" cried Tom, looking up, having caught the word Himalayas, and suspecting what East was after.
"Only about this fir," said Arthur, putting his hand on the stem of the beech.
"Fir!" shouted Tom; "why, you don't mean to say, young un, you don't know a beech when you see one?"
Poor little Arthur looked terribly ashamed, and East exploded in laughter which made the wood ring.
"I've hardly ever seen any trees," faltered Arthur.
"What a shame to hoax him, Scud!" cried Martin. "Never mind, Arthur you shall know more about trees than he does in a week or two."
"And isn't that the kestrel's nest, then?" asked Arthur.
"That! why that's a piece of mistletoe. There's the nest, that lump of sticks up in this fir."