"But, how can we leave the things here?" questioned the other. "Suppose some stranger, passing by, should take a fancy to our nice luncheon? What a terrible thing it would be to come back and find it gone! Again, too, just think, your friends the rabbits, dearie, might take it into their comical little heads to play at hide-and-seek amongst the dishes, besides nibbling what they liked. How would you like that, eh?" "Oh, auntie, how funny you are!" cried Nell, quite overcome at the idea of the bunnies making a playground of their well-arranged table-cloth. "But you can trust Rover to guard everything safely if we go away." "Are you sure, dearie?" inquired her aunt. "Quite sure?" "Certain, auntie, dear, nobody would dare to come near the spot while he's here, for he'd pretty soon bark, and bite, too! And, as for the poor rabbits, one sniff of his would send them all scuttling back into their burrows. Hi, Rover!" Nell called out, after giving this testimony on his behalf. "Lie down there, good dog, and watch!" Rover at once cocked an eye and looked in his young mistress's face. Next, he took note of her pointed finger, which she waved in a sort of comprehensive curve embracing the table-cloth with its appetising display of eatables; and then, as if he had made a mental list of all left in his charge, he laid down in a couchant position at the head of the table, if such it could be called, with his nose between his paws, along which his eyes were ready to take aim at any intruder, saying, in their fixed basilisk stare, "Now, you just touch anything, if you dare, my friend. I should like to see you attempt it!" "We can safely leave now, auntie," said Nellie; whereupon she and Mrs Gilmour strayed off through the bracken, hunting here and there for flowers on their way. Almost the first thing to catch their sight, before indeed they had left the little turfy dell where their paraphernalia was spread out with Rover in charge, was the pretty rose-coloured blossom of the "ragged Robin," rising out of the grass. A little further off was a cluster of the lilac field madder, named after Sherard the eminent botanist, whose herbarium is still preserved at Oxford. This plant is one of a large family, numbering over two thousand varieties, from which the well-known dye, madder, is obtained, though, of late years, aniline colouring matter has somewhat depreciated its commercial value. Mrs Gilmour presently picked up something better than either of these, at least in appearance. This was a little blue flower resembling the violet, with glossy green leaves that were its especial charm. "I declare I've found a periwinkle!" she cried--"such a fine one too." "Oh, let me look, auntie!" said Nell, peeping into her hand. "Dear me, do you call that a periwinkle?"