The Lost Clue by O.F. Walton

BORROWDALE is beautiful at every season of the year. The summer sunshine lights up its purple, heather-covered heights; the autumn tints make the wood in its hollows ablaze with orange and red; and the winter snows give it a grand and Alpine appearance.

But the hand of spring, after all, lavishes most loveliness upon Borrowdale. It covers it with a carpet of primroses, it draws through its woods a pale-blue lining of wild hyacinths, it makes its fields into cloth of gold with buttercups; whilst the fresh green of the silver birch, the bursting buds of the chestnuts, the countless signs in every flower, bush, and tree of awakening resurrection life, combine to make the whole valley a perfect fairyland.