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Yonge, Charlotte Mary, 1823-1901

"The Stokesley Secret"

Ah! now she has them. That's a fly-
catcher. By and by they shall be able to show her the old birds
flying round, catching flies on the wing, and feeding the young ones,
all perched in a row.
Now, can she scramble up the laurels? Yes, she hopes so; though she
wished she had known what was coming, for she would have changed her
Sunday muslin. But a look of anxiety came on Sam's face as he peeped
into the clump of laurels; he signed back the others, sprang upon the
dark scraggy bough of the tree, and Hal called out,
"Gone! has Ralph been there?"
"Ay, the black rascal; at least, I suppose so. Not an egg left, and
they would have hatched this week!"
"Well, Purday calls him his best friend," said Harry. "He says we
should not get a currant or a gooseberry if it wasn't for that there
raven, as Papa won't have the small birds shot."
"Bring down the nest, Sam," cried Susan; "Georgy will like to have
it."
The children behind, who never could hear of anything to be had
without laying a claim to it, shouted that they wanted the nest; but
Sam said Sue had spoken first, and they fell back discontented, and
more bent on their unkind sport.


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