Algy left the beautiful, sheltered garden and flew back home, where he found as fine an example of Flaming June as you could hope to see… He perched on a patch of prostrate juniper, which was clinging as closely as it could to a damp rock, and gazed out across the peat bog in the whistling wind, keeping his head tucked well down to avoid the worst effects of the driving Scotch mist. He had to concede that in view of the fact it was nearly midsummer, the weather was a wee bit disappointing for the time of year…

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