"Nothing," the boy answered quickly, flushing guiltily as he met Mr. Willis' kind, inquiring eyes; "that is, nothing of any importance." "I should have thought it was something of importance judging by your face," Mr. Willis returned good-humouredly; "but never mind, my son, your thoughts are your own." CHAPTER XIII In the Meadows ONE sunshiny afternoon found Angel with Dinah and Dora Mickle gathering cowslips in the meadows which stretched on either side of the Wrey, whilst Gerald and Tom fished in the stream. The little girls all had baskets, which, when they were filled with the golden flowers, they carried to the spot where the boys sat on the bank fishing, and commenced making cowslip bulls under Dinah's directions. "To think you never saw cowslips growing before you came to Wreyford, Angel!" Dora exclaimed, as, having finished one ball, she threw it into the air, and caught it again and again. "You wouldn't like to go back to live in London now, would you?" "No," Angel returned, her eyes wandering across the meadows with a great contentment in their grey depths. "What are those lilac flowers called?" she inquired. "Oh, those are cuckoo-flowers," Dora answered. "We call them cuckoo-flowers because they begin to open about the time the cuckoo comes," Dinah explained; "some people call them 'ladies smocks,' but they are really a sort of cress, and always grow in rather damp ground." "What a lot you know about flowers," Angel said. "I suppose that is because you have lived in the country all your life." "I don't know so much about flowers as Gilbert does; he remembers their botanical names, and understands how to classify them. He would tell you the cuckoo-flower is a species of cardamine. By the way, have you heard the cuckoo this year yet?" "Yes, when I was in the garden with father yesterday. I could not think what it was at first. I thought it must be one boy calling to another," Angel confessed, colouring slightly. "Oh, you silly thing!" cried Tom, looking over his shoulder at the little girls who were seated on the ground a few yards behind Gerald and himself. "What an ignoramus you must be!" Gerald joined in the laugh against his sister, though he was conscious that he might have made the same mistake himself, knowing as little as she did of the sights and sounds familiar to country folks. "I know it was silly of me," Angel acknowledged, good-temperedly smiling, for she was beginning to understand that Tom Mickle never meant his out-spoken remarks in an unkindly spirit; "father and Uncle Edward both laughed at me, and no wonder." "But if you had never heard the cuckoo before you could not be expected to know what it was," said Dinah in her matter-of-fact way. "Everything in the country must seem strange to you, and to Gerald too."