(To be continued.)
[WHERE SWALLOWS BUILD.]
By SARAH DOUDNEY.
CHAPTER II.
"I have never been so happy before in all my life!" Alice said.
All around her was the common, seldom-heeded loveliness of an English lane in August.
A long colonnade of oaks barred the way with shadows. The bindweed hung its garlands of little leafy hearts across the hedges. The bramble showed an abundance of green fruit which would swell and turn black by-and-by; and among the ground-ivy and strawberry leaves a few poison-berries shone out brightly, like witches' jewels. This was the grassy road leading to Swallow's Nest, and Alice had loved it from the very first day when she came here with her luggage, just a fortnight ago.