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Title: The Story of Opal: The Journal of an Understanding Heart

Author: Opal Stanley Whiteley

Author of introduction, etc.: Ellery Sedgwick

Release date: September 26, 2013 [eBook #43818]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43818

Credits: Produced by Marie Bartolo from page images made available
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF
OPAL: THE JOURNAL OF AN UNDERSTANDING HEART ***

The Story of Opal

The Journal of
An Understanding Heart

Photograph by Bachrach
OPAL WHITELEY RECONSTRUCTING HER DIARY

The Story of Opal
The Journal of
An Understanding Heart

By Opal Whiteley

With Illustrations

The Atlantic Monthly Press
Boston

Copyright, 1920, by The Atlantic Monthly Company
Copyright, 1920, by the Atlantic Monthly Press
All rights reserved

PREFACE

I

For those whom Nature loves, the Story of Opal is an open book. They
need no introduction to the journal of this Understanding Heart. But the
world, which veils the spirit and callouses the instincts, makes curiosity for
most people the criterion of interest. They demand facts and backgrounds,
theories and explanations, and for them it seems worth while to set forth
something of the child’s story undisclosed by the diary, and to attempt to
weave together some impressions of the author.
Last September, late one afternoon, Opal Whiteley came into the
Atlantic’s office, with a book which she had had printed in Los Angeles. It
was not a promising errand, though it had brought her all the way from the
Western coast, hoping to have published in regular fashion this volume, half
fact, half fancy, of The Fairyland Around Us, the fairyland of beasts and
blossoms, butterflies and birds. The book was quaintly embellished with
colored pictures, pasted in by hand, and bore a hundred marks of special
loving care. Yet about it there seemed little at first sight to tempt a
publisher. Indeed, she had offered her wares in vain to more than one
publishing house; and as her dollars were growing very few, the
disappointment was severe. But about Opal Whiteley herself there was
something to attract the attention even of a man of business—something
very young and eager and fluttering, like a bird in a thicket.
The talk went as follows:—

“I am afraid we can’t do anything with the book. But you must have had
an interesting life. You have lived much in the woods?”
“Yes, in lots of lumber-camps.”
“How many?”
“Nineteen. At least, we moved nineteen times.”
It was hard not to be interested now. One close question followed another
regarding the surroundings of her girlhood. The answers were so detailed,
so sharply remembered, that the next question was natural.
“If you remember like that, you must have kept a diary.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Yes, always. I do still.”
“Then it is not the book I want, but the diary.”
She caught her breath. “It’s destroyed. It’s all torn up.” Tears were in her
eyes.
“You loved it?”
“Yes; I told it everything.”
“Then you kept the pieces.”
The guess was easy (what child whose doll is rent asunder throws away
the sawdust?), but she looked amazed.
“Yes, I have kept everything. The pieces are all stored in Los Angeles.”
We telegraphed for them, and they came, hundreds, thousands, one might
almost say millions of them. Some few were large as a half-sheet of
notepaper; more, scarce big enough to hold a letter of the alphabet. The
paper was of all shades, sorts, and sizes: butchers’ bags pressed and sliced
in two, wrapping-paper, the backs of envelopes—anything and everything
that could hold writing. The early years of the diary are printed in letters so
close that, when the sheets are fitted, not another letter can be squeezed in.

In later passages the characters are written with childish clumsiness, and
later still one sees the gradually forming adult hand.
The labor of piecing the diary together may fairly be described as
enormous. For nine months almost continuously the diarist has labored,
piecing it together sheet by sheet, each page a kind of picture-puzzle,
lettered, for frugality (the store was precious), on both sides of the paper.
The entire diary, of which this volume covers but the two opening years,
must comprise a total of a quarter of a million words. Upwards of seventy
thousand—all that is contained in this volume—can be ascribed with more
than reasonable definiteness to the end of Opal’s sixth and to her seventh
year. During all these months Opal Whiteley has been a frequent visitor in
the Atlantic’s office. With friendliness came confidence, and little by little,
very gradually, an incident here, another there, her story came to be told.
She was at first eager only for the future and for the opportunity to write
and teach children of the world which she loved best. But as the thread of
the diary was unraveled, she felt a growing interest in what her past had
been, and in what lay behind her earliest recollections and the opening
chapters of her printed record.
Her methods were nothing if not methodical. First, the framework of a
sheet would be fitted and the outer edges squared. Here the adornment of
borders in childish patterns, and the fortunate fact that the writer had
employed a variety of colored crayons, using each color until it was
exhausted, lent an unhoped-for aid. Then, odd sheets were fitted together;
later, fragments of episodes. Whenever one was completed, it was typed by
an assistant on a card, and in this way there came into being a card-system
that would do credit to a scientific museum of modest proportions. Finally
the cards were filed in sequence, the manuscript then typed off and printed
just as at first written, with no change whatever other than omissions, the
adoption of reasonable rules of capitalization (the manuscript for many
years has nothing but capitals), and the addition of punctuation, of which

the manuscript is entirely innocent. The spelling—with the exception of
occasional characteristic examples of the diarist’s individual style—has, in
the reader’s interest, been widely amended.

II

Opal Whiteley—so her story runs—was born about twenty-two years ago
—where, we have no knowledge. Of her parents, whom she lost before her
fifth year, she is sure of nothing except that they loved her, and that she
loved them with a tenacity of affection as strong now as at the time of
parting. To recall what manner of people they were, no physical proof
remains except, perhaps, two precious little copybooks, which held their
photographs and wherein her mother and father had set down things which
they wished their little daughter to learn, both of the world about her and of
that older world of legend and history, with which the diarist shows such
capricious and entertaining familiarity. These books, for reasons beyond her
knowledge, were taken away from Opal when she was about twelve years
of age, and have never been returned, although there is ground for believing
that they are still in existence.
Other curious clues to the identity of her father and mother come from
the child’s frequent use of French expressions, and sometimes of longer
passages in French, and from her ready use of scientific terms. It is,
perhaps, a fair inference that her father was a naturalist by profession or
native taste, and that either he or her mother was French by birth or by
education.
After her parents’ death, there is an interlude in Opal’s recollection which
she does not understand, remembering only that for a brief season the sweet
tradition of her mother’s care was carried on by an older woman, possibly a
governess, from whom, within a year, she was taken and, after recovering
from a serious illness, given to the wife of an Oregon lumber-man, lately

parted from her first child,—Opal Whiteley,—whose place and name, for
reasons quite unknown, were given to the present Opal.
From some time in her sixth year to the present, her diary has continued
without serious interruption; and from the successive chapters we shall see
that her life, apart from the gay tranquillity of her spirit, was not a happy
one. Her friends were the animals and everything that flies or swims; her
single confidant was her diary, to which she confided every trouble and
every satisfaction.
When Opal was over twelve years old, a foster-sister, in a tragic fit of
childish temper, unearthed the hiding-place of the diary and tore it into a
myriad of fragments. The work of years seemed destroyed, but Opal, who
had treasured its understanding pages, picked up the pitiful scraps and
stored them in a secret box. There they lay undisturbed for many years.

III

Such in briefest outline is the story Opal told; and month after month,
while chapters of the diary were appearing in the Atlantic, snatches of the
same history, together with descriptions of many unrecorded episodes, came
in the editor’s mail; and though the weaving is of very different texture, the
pattern is unmistakably the pattern of the diary. Dates and names,
peregrinations and marriages, births, deaths, and adventures less solemn
and less apt to be accurately recollected, occurred just as the diary tells
them. The existence of the diary itself was well remembered, though for
many years Opal had never spoken of it; a friend recalled the calamitous
day when the abundant chronicle of six years was destroyed; and a cloud of
witnesses bore testimony to the multitudinous family of pets, and some
even to the multicolored names they bore. There were many letters besides,
which came not to the Atlantic at all, but were part of Opal’s own
correspondence with people “of understanding,” members by instinct of

that free-masonry which, as she learned long ago, binds folk of answering
hearts and minds. Many of these letters (which rest for safety in the
Atlantic’s treasury) are messages of thanks for copies of that first book of
Opal’s—engaging letters, very personal most of them, bearing signatures to
delight the eyes of collectors of autographs: M. Clemenceau, M. Poincaré,
Lord Rayleigh, Lord Curzon, members of the French cabinet, scientists,
men of letters, men of achievement. Opal has sought her friends all through
the world; but her lantern is bright and she has found them. Her old Oregon
teachers also have been quick to bear witness to her talents, and to recall the
formal lessons which often she would not remember, and the other more
necessary lessons which she could not forget. They would ask too whence
came the French which they had never taught her. An attempt to answer that
would take us far afield. All we need do here is to recall that first time,
when Opal, full of puzzlement over letters that simply would not shape
themselves into familiar phrases, turned to her editors and was told that they
were French.
“But they can’t be French! I never studied French.”
But French they are, nevertheless.

IV

If the story of Opal were written by another hand than her own, the
central theme of it would be faith. No matter how doubtful the enterprise,
the issue she always holds as certain, simply because the world is good and
God loves his children. Loving herself all created things, from her barrel-
full of caterpillars, whose evolution she would note and chronicle from day
to day, to the dogs and horses, squirrels, raccoons, and bats which peopled
the world she lived in, she would thank God daily for them, and very early
in her life determined to devote the rest of it to spreading knowledge of
them and of their kind far and wide among little children.

To accomplish this, needed education, and an education she would have.
Those about her showed no interest; but by picking berries, washing, and
work of all rough sorts, Opal paid for the books which the high school
required. But she must do more than this. She must go to college. To the
State University she went, counting it nothing that she should live in a room
without furniture other than a two-dollar cot, and two coats for blankets.
Family conditions, however, made college impossible for her. After the
illness and death of Mrs. Whiteley, Opal borrowed a little money from
friends in Cottage Grove, Oregon, and started alone for Los Angeles,
determined to seek her livelihood by giving nature lessons to classes of
children.
The privations and disappointments of the next two years would make an
heroic tale; but she persevered, and her classes became successful. The next
step was her nature book, for which, by personal canvass for subscriptions,
she raised not less than the prodigious sum of $9400. But the printers with a
girl for a client, demanded more and still more money, and when the final
$600 necessary to make the booty mount to $10,000 was not forthcoming,
with a brutality that would do credit to a Thénardier, first threatened, and
then destroyed the plates.
A struggle for mere existence followed, but gradually Opal triumphed,
when she was overtaken by a serious illness and taken to the hospital. New
and merciful friends, such as are always conjured up by such a life as
Opal’s, came to her assistance, and after her recovery she soon started
eastward, to find a publisher for her ill-fated volume. The rest we know.
Yet, after all, our theme should not be Opal, but Opal’s book. She is the
child of curious and interesting circumstance, but of circumstance her
journal is altogether independent. The authorship does not matter, nor the
life from which it came. There the book is. Nothing else is like it, nor apt to
be. If there is alchemy in Nature, it is in children’s hearts the unspoiled

treasure lies, and for that room of the treasure-house, the Story of Opal
offers a tiny golden key.
Ellery Sedgwick.
The Atlantic Office, June, 1920.

CONTENTS

Characters in the Narrative xxi

Introduction by the Author 1

Chapter I
How Opal Goes along the Road beyond the Singing Creek, and of all she Sees in her
New Home 5

Chapter II
How Lars Porsena of Clusium Got Opal into Trouble, and how Michael Angelo
Sanzio Raphael and Sadie McKibben Gave her Great Comfort 9
Chapter III
Of the Queer Feels that Came out of a Bottle of Castoria, and of the Happiness of
Larry and Jean 14

Chapter IV
How Peter Paul Rubens Goes to School 21

Chapter V
How Opal Comforted Aphrodite, and how the Fairies Comforted Opal when there
Was Much Sadness at School 25

Chapter VI
Opal Gives Wisdom to the Potatoes, Cleanliness to the Family Clothes, and a
Delicate Dinner to Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus 35
Chapter VII
The Adventure of the Tramper; and what Happens on Long and on Short Days 47

Chapter VIII
How Opal Takes a Walk in the Forest of Chantilly; she Visits Elsie and her Baby
Boy, and Explains Many Things to the Girl that Has no Seeing 55

Chapter IX
Of an Exploring Trip with Brave Horatius; and how Opal Kept Sadness away from
her Animal Friends 69

Chapter X
How Brave Horatius is Lost and Found again, but Peter Paul Rubens is Lost Forever
75

Chapter XI
How Opal Took the Miller’s Brand out of the Flour-Sack, and Got Many Sore Feels
thereby; and how Sparks Come on Cold Nights; and how William Shakespeare
Has Likings for Poems 81

Chapter XII
Of Elsie’s Brand-New Baby, and all the Things that Go with it; and the Goodly
Wisdom of the Angels, who Bring Folks Babies that Are like them 91

Chapter XIII
How Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil Go for a Ride; William
Shakespeare Suffers One Whipping and Opal Another 100

Chapter XIV
How Opal Feels Satisfaction Feels, and Takes a Ride on William Shakespeare; and
all that Came of it 104
Chapter XV
Of Jenny Strong’s Visit, its Gladness and its Sadness 114

Chapter XVI
Of the Woods on a Lonesome Day, and the Friendliness of the Wood-Folks on
December Days when you Put your Ears Close and Listen 122

Chapter XVII
Of Works to be Done; and how it Was that a Glad Light Came into the Eyes of the
Man who Wears Gray Neckties and Is Kind to Mice 127

Chapter XVIII
How Opal Pays One Visit to Elsie and Another to Dear Love, and Learns how to
Mend her Clothes in a Quick Way 131

Chapter XIX
Of the Camp by the Mill by the Far Woods; of the Spanking that Came from the
New Way of Mending Clothes; and of the Long Sleep of William Shakespeare
138

Chapter XX
Of the Little Song-Notes that Dance about Babies; and of the Solemn Christening of
Solomon Grundy 146

Chapter XXI

How Opal Names Names of the Lambs of Aidan of Iona, and Seeks for the Soul of
Peter Paul Rubens 158

Chapter XXII
How Solomon Grundy Falls Sick and Grows Well again; and Minerva’s Chickens
are Christened; and the Pensée Girl, with the Far-Away Look in her Eyes, Finds
Thirty-and-Three Bunches of Flowers 165

Chapter XXIII
How Opal and Brave Horatius Go on Explores and Visit the Hospital.—How the
Mamma Dyes Clothes and Opal Dyes Clementine 177

Chapter XXIV
How the Mamma’s Wish Came True, and how Opal was Spanked for it; and of the
Likes which Aphrodite Had for a Clean Place to Live in 185

Chapter XXV
Of Many Washings and a Walk 193

Chapter XXVI
Why it Was that the Girl who Has no Seeing Was not at Home when Opal Called
197

Chapter XXVII
Of a Cathedral Service in the Pig-Pen.—How the World Looks from a Man’s
Shoulder 204

Chapter XXVIII
How Opal Piped with Reeds, and what a Good Time Dear Love Gave Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus 212

Chapter XXIX
How Opal Feels the Heat of the Sun, and Decorates a Goodly Number of the White
Poker-Chips of the Chore Boy 218

Chapter XXX
How Opal and the Little Birds from the Great Tree Have a Happy Time at the House
of Dear Love 226

Chapter XXXI
How Lola Wears her White Silk Dress at Last 231

Chapter XXXII
Of the Ways that Fairies Write, and the Proper Way to Drink in the Song of the
Wood 234

Chapter XXXIII

Of the Death of Lars Porsena of Clusium, and of the Comfort that Sadie McKibben
can Give 242

Chapter XXXIV
Of the Fall of the Great Tree, and the Funeral of Aristotle 249

Chapter XXXV
How the Man of the Long Step that Whistles Most of the Time Takes an Interesting
Walk 253

Chapter XXXVI
Of Taking-Egg Day, and the Remarkable Things that Befell thereon 259

Chapter XXXVII
Of the Strange Adventure in the Woods on the Going-Away Day of Saint Louis 270

Chapter XXXVIII
How Opal Makes Prepares to Move. How she Collects all the Necessary Things,
Bids Good-bye to Dear Love, and Learns that her Prayer has been Answered 275

Postscript 284

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Opal Whiteley Recon­struct­ing her Diary Frontispiece

The Author and the Fragments of Her Diary 1

A Specimen Page of Opal’s Diary Written on a Paper Bag 13

Lumber-Camp Folk 33

At the Pasture-Bars 78

“After we were across the rivière we went in a more slow way” 108

“I wonder why it is the lumber-camp folk do cut off their overalls where they
do meet the boots” 140

A Path to “Explores” in the Far Woods 187

CHARACTERS IN THE NARRATIVE

Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon, a pet turkey.
Adamnan of Iona, a sheep.
Alan of Bretagne, a fir tree.
Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne, the shepherd.
Albéric de Briançon, a sheep.
Alcuin, a sheep.
Alfric of Canterbury, a sheep.
Anacreon Herodotus, a lamb a little more little than the other little
lamb.
Andromeda, sister hen of Clementine.
Anthonya Mundy, Solomon Grundy’s little pig sister that has not got
as much curl in her tail as has Solomon Grundy.
Aphrodite, the mother-pig.
Aristotle, a pet bat who died of eating too many mosquitoes.

Bébé Blanche }
Bébé William } two little trees by Edward III.
Bede of Jarrow, a sheep.
Ben Jonson, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Brave Horatius, the shepherd dog.
Byron, a fir tree in the lane.

Cassiopée, a neighbor’s pig.
Cardinal Richelieu, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.

Charlemagne, the most tall tree of all the trees growing in the lane.
Clementine, a Plymouth Rock hen.
Cynewulf, a sheep.

Dallan Forgaill, a sheep.
Dear Love and her Young Husband, neighbors and dear friends.

Edmund Spenser, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Edward III, a fir tree near the singing creek where the willows grow.
Edward, Prince of Wales, a younger tree growing near unto
Edward III.
Edwin of Diera, a sheep.
Elidor, a sheep.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, a pet cow with poetry in her tracks.
Elsie and her Young Husband, neighbors and interesting friends.
Epicurus Pythagoras, a lamb.
Étienne of Blois, a fir tree in the woods.

Felix Mendelssohn, a very dear pet mouse.
Felix of Croyland, a sheep.
Francis Beaumont, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.

Geoffroi Chaucer, a little squirrel that was hurt by the black cat.
Godefroi of Bouillon, a fir tree in the woods.
Good King Edward I, a fir tree growing in the lane.
Grandpère, Mrs. Whiteley’s father.
Guy de Cavaillon, a sheep.
Gwian, a sheep.

Homer Archimedes Chilon, a little lamb more big than all the other
lambs.
Hugh Capet, a fir tree growing in the lane.

Isaiah, a plain dog.

Jean de la Fontaine, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Jean Molière, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Jean Racine, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Jenny Strong, a visitor with an interesting bonnet.
John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, a tree growing near unto
Edward III.
John Fletcher, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.

Keats, an oak tree in the lane.

Lars Porsena of Clusium, a pet crow with a fondness for collecting
things.
Lionel, Duke of Clarence, a tree growing near unto Edward III.
Lola, a little girl in school, who had wants for a white silk dress.
Louis II, le Grand Condé, a wood-mouse with likes to ride in the
sleeve of my red dress.
Louis VI, a grand fir tree in the woods.
Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil, a toad.

“Mamma, The,” Mrs. Whiteley.
Marcus Aurelius, a lamb.
Mathilde Plantagenet, the baby calf of the gentle Jersey cow, that
came on the night of the coming of Elsie’s baby.

Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides, a most dear lamb that
had needs to be mothered.
Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael, a grand fir tree with an
understanding soul.

Nannerl Mozart, a very shy mouse.
Napoleon, the Rhode Island Red rooster.
Nicholas Boileau, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.

Oliver Goldsmith, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Orderic, a sheep.

“Papa, The,” Mr. Whiteley.
Peace, a mother hen that has got all her children grown up.
Periander Pindar, a lamb.
Peter Paul Rubens, a very dear pet pig.
Pius VII, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Plato }
Pliny } twin bats.
Plutarch Demosthenes, a lamb.

Queen Eleanor of Castile, a fir tree in the lane growing by Edward I.
Queen Philippa of Hainault, a fir tree growing by Edward III.

Raoul de Houdenc, a sheep.
Raymond of Toulouse, a fir tree in the woods.

Sadie McKibben, a comforter in time of trouble.
Saint Louis, a fir tree growing in the lane.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.

Savonarola, a sorrel horse.
Shelley, a fir tree growing in the lane.
Sir Francis Bacon, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Sir Philip Sidney, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Sir Walter Raleigh, one of Minerva’s baby chickens.
Solomon Grundy, a very dear baby pig.
Solon Thales, a lamb.
Sophocles Diogenes, a lamb with a short tail and a question-look in his
eyes.

Theodore Roosevelt, a fir tree in the lane.
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, a most dear velvety wood-rat.
Tibullus Theognis, a fuzzy lamb with very long legs.

William Makepeace Thackeray, a little bird that was hurt.
William Shakespeare, an old gray horse with an understanding soul.
William Wordsworth, an oak tree in the lane.

The Story of Opal

The Journal of
An Understanding Heart

Photograph by Bachrach
THE AUTHOR AND THE FRAGMENTS OF HER DIARY

THE STORY OF OPAL

INTRODUCTION BY THE AUTHOR

Of the days before I was taken to the lumber camps there is little I
remember. As piece by piece the journal comes together, some things come
back. There are references here and there in the journal to things I saw or
heard or learned in those days before I came to the lumber camps.
There were walks in the fields and woods. When on these walks, Mother
would tell me to listen to what the flowers and trees and birds were saying.
We listened together. And on the way she told me poems and other lovely
things, some of which she wrote in the two books and also in others which I
had not with me in the lumber camps. On the walks, and after we came
back, she had me to print what I had seen and what I had heard. After that
she told me of different people and their wonderful work on earth. Then she
would have me tell again to her what she had told me. After I came to the
lumber camp, I told these things to the trees and the brooks and the flowers.
There were five words my mother said to me over and over again, as she
had me to print what I had seen and what I had heard. These words were:
What, Where, When, How, Why. They had a very great influence over all
my observations and the recording of those observations during all the days
of my childhood. And my Mother having put such strong emphasis on these
five words accounts for much of the detailed descriptions that are
throughout my diary.
No children I knew. There were only Mother and the kind woman who
taught me and looked after me and dressed me, and the young girl who fed
me. And there was Father in those few days when he was home from the far
lands. Those were wonderful days—his home-coming days. Then he would
take me on his knee and ride me on his shoulder and tell me of the animals

and birds of the far lands. And we went for many walks, and he would talk
to me about the things along the way. It was then he taught me comparer.
There was one day when I went with Mother in a boat. It was a little way
on the sea. It was a happy day. Then something happened and we were all
in the water. Afterward, when I called for Mother, they said the sea waves
had taken her and she was gone to heaven. I remember the day because I
never saw my Mother again.
The time was not long after that day with Mother in the boat, when one
day the kind woman who taught me and took care of me did tell me gently
that Father too had gone to heaven while he was away in the far lands. She
said she was going to take me to my grandmother and grandfather, the
mother and father of my Father.
We started. But I never got to see my dear grandmother and grandfather,
whom I had never seen. Something happened on the way and I was all
alone. And I did n’t feel happy. There were strange people that I had never
seen before, and I was afraid of them. They made me to keep very still, and
we went for no walks in the field. But we traveled a long, long way.
Then it was they put me with Mrs. Whiteley. The day they put me with
her was a rainy day, and I thought she was a little afraid of them too. She
took me on the train and in a stage-coach to the lumber camp. She called
me Opal Whiteley, the same name as that of another little girl who was the
same size as I was when her mother lost her. She took me into the camp as
her own child, and so called me as we lived in the different lumber camps
and in the mill town.
With me I took into camp a small box. In a slide drawer in the bottom of
this box were two books which my own Mother and Father, the Angel
Father and Mother I always speak of in my diary, had written in. I do not
think the people who put me with Mrs. Whiteley knew about the books in
the lower part of the box, for they took everything out of the top part of the

box and tossed it aside. I picked it up and kept it with me, and, being as I
was more quiet with it in my arms, they allowed me to keep it, thinking it
was empty. These books I kept always with me, until one day I shall always
remember, when I was about twelve years old, they were taken from the
box I kept then hid in the woods. Day by day I spelled over and over the
many words that were written in them. From them I selected names for my
pets. And it was the many little things recorded there that helped me to
remember what my Mother and Father had already told me of different
great lives and their work; and these books with these records made me
very eager to be learning more and more of what was recorded in them.
These two books I studied much more than I did my books at school. Their
influence upon my life has been great.

CHAPTER I

How Opal Goes along the Road beyond the Singing Creek, and of all she
Sees in her New Home.

To-day the folks are gone away from the house we do live in. They are
gone a little way away, to the ranch-house where the grandpa does live. I sit
on our steps and I do print. I like it—this house we do live in being at the
edge of the near woods. So many little people do live in the near woods. I
do have conversations with them. I found the near woods first day I did go
explores. That was the next day after we were come here. All the way from
the other logging camp in the beautiful mountains we came in a wagon.
Two horses were in front of us. They walked in front of us all the way.
When first we were come, we did live with some other people in the ranch-
house that was n’t all builded yet. After that we lived in a tent, and often
when it did rain many raindrops came right through the tent. They did fall
in patters on the stove and on the floor and on the table. Too, they did make
the quilts on the beds some damp—but that did n’t matter much because
they soon got dried hanging around the stove.
By and by we were come from the tent to this lumber shanty. It has got a
divide in it. One room we do have sleeps in. In the other room we do have
breakfast and supper. Back of the house are some nice wood-rats. The most
lovely of them all is Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. By the wood-shed is a
brook. It goes singing on. Its joy song does sing in my heart. Under the
house live some mice. I give them bread-scraps to eat. Under the steps lives

a toad. He and I—we are friends. I have named him. I call him Lucian
Horace Ovid Virgil.
Between the ranch-house and the house we live in is the singing creek
where the willows grow. We have conversations. And there I do dabble my
toes beside the willows. I feel the feels of gladness they do feel. And often it
is I go from the willows to the meeting of the road. That is just in front of
the ranch-house. There the road does have divides. It goes three ways. One
way the road does go to the house of Sadie McKibben. It does n’t stop when
it gets to her house, but mostly I do. The road just goes on to the mill town a
little way away. In its going it goes over a hill. Sometimes—the times Sadie
McKibben is n’t at home—I do go with Brave Horatius to the top of the
hill. We look looks down upon the mill town. Then we do face about and
come again home. Always we make stops at the house of Sadie McKibben.
Her house—it is close to the mill by the far woods. That mill makes a lot of
noise. It can do two things at once. It makes the noises and also it does saw
the logs into boards. About the mill do live some people, mostly men-folks.
There does live the good man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice.
Another way, the road does go the way I go when I go to the school-
house where I go to school. When it is come there, it does go right on—on
to the house of the girl who has no seeing. When it gets to her house, it does
make a bend, and it does go its way to the blue hills. As it goes, its way is
near unto the way of the rivière that sings as it comes from the blue hills.
There are singing brooks that come going to the rivière. These brooks—
they and I—we are friends. I call them Orne and Loing and Yonne and Rille
and Essonne.
Near unto the road, long ways between the brooks, are ranch-houses. I
have not knowing of the people that do dwell in them. But I do know some
of their cows and horses and pigs. They are friendly folk. Around the ranch-
houses are fields. Woods used to grow where now grows grain. When the
mowers cut down the grain, they also do cut down the cornflowers that

grow in the fields. I follow along after and I do pick them up. Of some of
them I make a guirlande. When the guirlande is made, I do put it around the
neck of William Shakespeare. He does have appreciations. As we go
walking down the lane, I do talk with him about the one he is named for.
And he does have understanding. He is such a beautiful gray horse, and his
ways are ways of gentleness. Too, he does have likings like the likings I
have for the hills that are beyond the fields—for the hills where are trails
and tall fir trees like the wonderful ones that do grow by the road.
So go two of the roads. The other road does lead to the upper logging
camps. It goes only a little way from the ranch-house and it comes to a
rivière. Long time ago, this road did have a longing to go across the rivière.
Some wise people did have understandings and they did build it a bridge to
go across on. It went across the bridge and it goes on and on between the
hills—the hills where dwell the talking fir trees. By its side goes the
railroad track. Its appears are not so nice as are the appears of the road, and
it has got only a squeaky voice. But this railroad track does have shining
rails—they stretch away and away, like a silver ribbon that came from the
moon in the night. I go a-walking on these rails. I get off when I do hear the
approaches of the dinky engine. On this track on every day, excepting
Sunday, comes and goes the logging train. It goes to the camps and it does
bring back cars of logs and cars of lumber. These it does take to the mill
town. There engines more big do take the cars of lumber to towns more big.
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus has been waiting in my sunbonnet a long
time. He wants to go on explores. Too, Brave Horatius and Isaiah are
having longings in their eyes. And I hear Peter Paul Rubens squealing in the
pig-pen. Now I go. We go on explores.

CHAPTER II

How Lars Porsena of Clusium Got Opal into Trouble, and how Michael
Angelo Sanzio Raphael and Sadie McKibben Gave her Great Comfort.

To-day was a warm, hot day. It was warm in the morning and hot at
noon. Before noon and after noon and after that, I carried water to the hired
men in the field in a jug. I got the water out of the pump to put into the jug.
I had to put water in the pump before any would come out. The men were
glad to have that water in the jug.
While I was taking the water in the jug to the men in the field, from her
sewing-basket Lars Porsena of Clusium took the mamma’s thimble, and she
did n’t have it and she could n’t find it. She sent me to watch out for it in
the house and in the yard and everywhere. I know how Lars Porsena of
Clusium has a fondness for collecting things of bright colors, like unto my
fondness for collecting rocks; so I ran to his hiding-place in the old oak tree.
There I found the mamma’s thimble; but she said the pet crow’s having
taken it was as though I had taken it, because he was my property; so I got a
spanking with the hazel switches that grow near unto our back steps. Inside
me I could n’t help feeling she ought to have given me thanks for finding
the thimble.
Afterwards I made little vases out of clay. I put them in the oven to bake.
The mamma found my vases of clay. She threw them out the window.
When I went to pick them up, they were broken. I felt sad inside. I went to
talk things over with my chum, Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael. He is that
most tall fir tree that grows just back of the barn. I scooted up the barn door.

From there I climbed onto the lower part of the barn roof. I walked up a
ways. Up there I took a long look at the world about. One gets such a good
wide view of the world from a barn roof. After, I looked looks in four
straight ways and four corner ways. I said a little prayer. I always say a little
prayer before I jump off the barn into the arms of Michael Angelo Sanzio
Raphael, because that jump is quite a long jump, and if I did not land in the
arms of Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael, I might get my leg or neck
broken. That would mean I’d have to keep still a long time. Now I think
that would be the most awful thing that could happen, for I do so love to be
active. So I always say a little prayer and do that jump in a careful way. To-
day, when I did jump, I did land right proper in that fir tree. It is such a
comfort to nestle up to Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael when one is in
trouble. He is such a grand tree. He has an understanding soul.
After I talked with him and listened unto his voice, I slipped down out of
his arms. I intended to slip into the barn corral, but I slid off the wrong limb
in the wrong way. I landed in the pig-pen on top of Aphrodite, the mother-
pig. She gave a peculiar grunt. It was not like those grunts she gives when
she is comfortable.
I felt I ought to do something to make up to her for having come into her
home out of the arms of Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael instead of calling
on her in the proper way. I decided a good way to make it up to her would
be to pull down the rail fence in that place where the pig-pen is weak, and
take her for a walk. I went to the wood-shed. I got a piece of clothes-line
rope. While I was making a halter for the mother-pig, I took my Sunday-
best hair-ribbon—the blue ribbon the Uncle Henry gave to me. I made a
bow on that halter. I put the bow just over her ears. That gave her the proper
look. When the mamma saw us go walking by, she took the bow from off
the pig. She put that bow in the trunk; me she put under the bed.
By-and-by—some time long it was—she took me from under the bed and
gave me a spanking. She did not have time to give me a spanking when she

put me under the bed. She left me there until she did have time. After she
did it she sent me to the ranch-house to get milk for the baby. I walked slow
through the oak grove, looking for caterpillars. I found nine. Then I went to
the pig-pen. The chore boy was fixing back the rails I had pulled down. His
temper was quite warm. He was saying prayer words in a very quick way. I
went not near unto him. I slipped around near Michael Angelo Sanzio
Raphael. I peeked in between the fence-rails. Aphrodite was again in the
pig-pen. She was snoozing, so I tiptoed over to the rain-barrel by the barn. I
raised mosquitoes in the rain-barrel for my pet bats. Aristotle eats more
mosquitoes than Plato and Pliny eat.
On my way to the house I met Clementine, the Plymouth Rock hen, with
her family. She only has twelve baby chickens now. The grandpa say the
other one she did have died of new monia because I gave it too many baths
for its health. When I came to the house one of the cats, a black one, was
sitting on the doorstep. I have not friendly feelings for that big black cat.
Day before the day that was yesterday I saw him kill the mother
hummingbird. He knocked her with his paw when she came to the
nasturtiums. I did n’t even speak to him.
Just as I was going to knock on the back door for the milk, I heard a
voice on the front porch. It was the voice of a person who has an
understanding soul. I hurried around to the front porch. There was Sadie
McKibben with a basket on her arm. She beamed a smile at me. I went over
and nestled up against her blue gingham apron with cross stitches on it. The
freckles on Sadie McKibben’s wrinkled face are as many as are the stars in
the Milky Way, and she is awful old—going on forty. Her hands are all
brown and cracked like the dried-up mud-puddles by the roadside in July,
and she has an understanding soul. She always has bandages ready in her
pantry when some of my pets get hurt. There are cookies in her cookie-jar
when I don’t get home for meals, and she allows me to stake out earthworm
claims in her back yard.

A SPECIMEN PAGE OF OPAL’S DIARY WRITTEN ON A PAPER BAG

She walked along beside me when I took the milk home. When she came
near the lane, she took from her basket wrapping-papers and gave them to
me to print upon. Then she kissed me good-bye upon the cheek and went

her way to her home. I went my way to the house we live in. After the
mamma had switched me for not getting back sooner with the milk, she told
me to fix the milk for the baby. The baby’s bottle used to be a brandy bottle,
but it evoluted into a milk bottle when they put a nipple onto it.
I sit here on the doorstep printing this on the wrapping-paper Sadie
McKibben gave me. The baby is in bed asleep. The mamma and the rest of
the folks is gone to the ranch-house. When they went away, she said for me
to stay in the doorway to see that nothing comes to carry the baby away. By
the step is Brave Horatius. At my feet is Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. I
hear songs—lullaby songs of the trees. The back part of me feels a little bit
sore, but I am happy listening to the twilight music of God’s good world.
I’m real glad I’m alive.

CHAPTER III

Of the Queer Feels that Came out of a Bottle of Castoria, and of the
Happiness of Larry and Jean.

The colic had the baby to-day, and there was no Castoria for the pains;
there was none because yesterday Pearl[1] and I climbed upon a chair and
then upon the dresser and drank up the new bottle of Castoria; but the bottle
had an ache in it and we swallowed the ache with the Castoria. That gave us
queer feels. Pearl lay down on the bed. I did rub her head. But she said it
was n’t her head—it was her back that hurt. Then she said it was her leg
that ached. The mamma came in the house then, and she did take Pearl in a
quick way to the ranch-house.
[1] A foster-sister.

It was a good time for me to go away exploring, but I did n’t feel like
going on an exploration trip. I just sat on the doorstep. I did sit there and
hold my chin in my hand. I did have no longings to print. I only did have
longings not to have those queer feels. Brave Horatius came walking by. He
did make a stop at the doorstep. He wagged his tail. That meant he wanted
to go on an exploration trip. Lars Porsena of Clusium came from the oak
tree. He did perch on the back of Brave Horatius. He gave two caws. That
meant he wanted to go on an exploration trip. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus came from under the house. He just crawled into my lap. I gave him
pats and he cuddled his nose up under my curls. Peter Paul Rubens did
squeal out in the pig-pen. He squealed the squeals he does squeal when he
wants to go on an exploration trip.

Brave Horatius did wait and wait, but still those queer feels would n’t go
away. Pretty soon I got awful sick. By-and-by I did have better feels. And
to-day my feels are all right and the mamma is gone a-visiting and I am
going on an exploration trip. Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium
and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and Peter Paul Rubens are waiting
while I do print this. And now we are going the way that does lead to the
blue hills.

Sometimes I share my bread and jam with Yellowjackets, who have a
home on the bush by the road, twenty trees and one distant from the garden.
To-day I climbed upon the old rail fence close to their home with a piece
and a half of bread and jam and the half piece for them and the piece for
myself. But they all wanted to be served at once, so it became necessary to
turn over all bread and jam on hand. I broke it into little pieces, and they
had a royal feast there on the old fence-rail. I wanted my bread and jam; but
then Yellowjackets are such interesting fairies, being among the world’s
first paper-makers; and baby Yellowjackets are such chubby youngsters.
Thinking of these things makes it a joy to share one’s bread and jam with
these wasp fairies.
When I was coming back from feeding them I heard a loud noise. That
Rob Ryder was out there by the chute, shouting at God in a very quick way.
He was begging God to dam that chute right there in our back yard. Why, if
God answered his prayer, we would be in an awful fix. The house we live in
would be under water, if God dammed the chute. Now I think anger had
Rob Ryder or he would not pray kind God to be so unkind.
When I came again to the house we live in, the mamma was cutting out
biscuits with the baking-powder can. She put the pan of biscuits on the
wood-box back of the stove. She put a most clean dish-towel over the
biscuits, then she went to gather in clothes. I got a thimble from the

machine drawer. I cut little round biscuits from the big biscuits. The
mamma found me. She put the thimble back in the machine drawer. She put
me under the bed. Here under the bed I now print.
By-and-by, after a long time, the mamma called me to come out from
under the bed. She told me to put on my coat and her big fascinator on my
head. She fastened my coat with safety-pins, then she gave me a lard-pail
with its lid on tight. She told me to go straight to the grandpa’s house for the
milk, and to come straight home again. I started to go straight for the milk.
When I came near the hospital, I went over to it to get the pet mouse, Felix
Mendelssohn. I thought that a walk in the fresh air would be good for his
health. I took one of the safety-pins out of my coat. I pinned up a corner of
the fascinator. That made a warm place next to my curls for Felix
Mendelssohn to ride in. I call this mouse Felix Mendelssohn because
sometimes he makes very sweet music.
Then I crossed to the cornfield. A cornfield is a very nice place, and some
days we children make hair for our clothes-pin dolls from the silken tassels
of the corn that grow in the grandpa’s cornfield. Sometimes, which is quite
often, we break the cornstalks in getting the silk tassels. That makes bumps
on the grandpa’s temper.
To-night I walked zigzag across the field to look for things. Into my
apron pocket I put bits of little rocks. By a fallen cornstalk I met two of my
mouse friends. I gave them nibbles of food from the other apron pocket. I
went on and saw a fat old toad by a clod. Mice and toads do have such
beautiful eyes. I saw two caterpillars on an ear of corn after I turned the
tassels back. All along the way I kept hearing voices. Little leaves were
whispering, “Come, petite Françoise,” over in the lane. I saw another mouse
with beautiful eyes. Then I saw a man and woman coming across the field.
The man was carrying a baby.

Soon I met them. It was Larry and Jean and their little baby. They let me
pat the baby’s hand and smooth back its hair, for I do so love babies. When
I grow up I want twins and eight more children, and I want to write outdoor
books for children everywhere.
To-night, after Larry and Jean started on, I turned again to wave good-
bye. I remembered the first time I saw Larry and Jean, and the bit of poetry
he said to her. They were standing by an old stump in the lane where the
leaves whispered. Jean was crying. He patted her on the shoulder and
said:—

“There, little girl, don’t cry,
I’ll come back and marry you by-and-by.”

And he did. And the angels looking down from heaven saw their happiness
and brought a baby real soon, when they had been married most five
months; which was very nice, for a baby is such a comfort and twins are a
multiplication table of blessings. And Felix Mendelssohn is yet so little a
person, and the baby of Larry and Jean is growed more big. On the day I
did hear him say to her that poetry—it was then I did find Felix
Mendelssohn there in the lane near to them. He was only a wee little mouse
then. And every week that he did grow a more week old, I just put one more
gray stone in the row of his growing. And there was nineteen more gray
stones in the row when the Angels did bring the dear baby to Larry and Jean
than there was stones in the row when they was married. And now there are
a goodly number more stones in the row of Felix Mendelssohn’s weeks of
growing old. I have feels that there will be friendship between the dear
mouse Felix Mendelssohn and the dear baby of Larry and Jean. For by the
stump where he did say that poetry to her was the abiding place of Felix
Mendelssohn when I did have finding of him. This eventime he did snuggle
more close by my curls. I have so much likes for him. I did tell him that this

night-time he is to have sleeps close by. When we were gone a little way, I
did turn again to wave good-bye to the baby of Larry and Jean.
After I waved good-bye to the dear baby, I thought I’d go around by the
lane where I first saw them and heard him say to her that poetry. It is such a
lovely lane. I call it our lane. Of course, it does n’t belong to Brave Horatius
and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and I and
all the rest of us. It belongs to a big man that lives in a big house, but it is
our lane more than it is his lane, because he does n’t know the grass and
flowers that grow there, and the birds that nest there, and the lizards that run
along the fence, and the caterpillars and beetles that go walking along the
roads made by the wagon wheels. And he does n’t stop to talk to the trees
that grow all along the lane.
All those trees are my friends. I call them by names I have given to them.
I call them Hugh Capet and Saint Louis and Good King Edward I; and the
tallest one of all is Charlemagne, and the one around where the little
flowers talk most is William Wordsworth, and there are Byron and Keats
and Shelley. When I go straight for the milk, I do so like to come around
this way by the lane and talk to these tree friends. I stopped to-night to give
to each a word of greeting. When I got to the end of the lane, I climbed the
gate and thought I had better hurry straight on to get the milk.
When I went by the barn, I saw a mouse run around the corner and a
graceful bat came near unto the barn-door. I got the milk. It was near dark
time, so I came again home by the lane and along the corduroy road. When
I got most home, I happened to remember the mamma wanted the milk in a
hurry, so I began to hurry.
I don’t think I’ll print more to-night. I printed this sitting on the wood-
box, where the mamma put me after she spanked me after I got home with
the milk. Now I think I shall go out the bedroom window and talk to the

stars. They always smile so friendly. This is a very wonderful world to live
in.

CHAPTER IV

How Peter Paul Rubens Goes to School.

In the morning of to-day, when I was come part way to school, when I
was come to the ending of the lane, I met a glad surprise. There was my
dear pet pig awaiting for me. I gave him three joy pats on the nose, and I
did call him by name ten times. I was so glad to see him. Being as I got a
late start to school, I did n’t have enough time to go around by the pig-pen
for our morning talk. And there he was awaiting for me, at the ending of the
lane. And his name it is Peter Paul Rubens. His name is that because the
first day I saw him was on the twenty-ninth of June. He was little then—a
very plump young pig with a little red ribbon squeal and a wanting to go
everywhere I did go. Sometimes he would squeal and I would n’t go to find
out what he wanted. Then one day, when his nose was sore, he did give
such an odd pain squeal. Of course I run a quick run to help him. After that,
when he had a chance he would come to the kitchen door and give that
same squeal. That Peter Paul Rubens seemed to know that was the only one
of all his squeals that would bring me at once to where he was.
And this morning, when I did start on to school, he gave that same squeal
and came a-following after. When he was caught up with me he gave a
grunt, and then he gave his little red ribbon squeal. A lump came up in my
throat and I could n’t tell him to turn around and go back to the pig-pen. So
we just went along to school together.
When we got there school was already took up. I went in first. The new
teacher came back to tell me I was tardy again. She did look out the door.

She saw my dear Peter Paul Rubens. She did ask me where that pig came
from. I just started in to tell her all about him, from the day I first met him.
She did look long looks at me. She did look those looks for a long time. I
made pleats in my apron with my fingers. I made nine on one side and three
on the other side. When I was through counting the pleats I did make in my
apron, I did ask her what she was looking those long looks at me for. She
said, “I’m screwtineyesing you.” I never did hear that word before. It is a
new word. It does have an interest sound. I think I will have uses for it.
Now when I look long looks at a thing I will print I did screwtineyes it.
After she did look more long looks at me, she went back to her desk by
the blackboard. She did call the sixth grade fiziologie class. I went to my
seat. I only sat half way in it. I so did so I would have seeing of my dear
Peter Paul Rubens. He did wait at the steps. He looked long looks toward
the door. It was n’t long until he walked right in. I felt such an amount of
satisfaction having him at school. Teacher felt not so. Now I have wonders
about things. I wonder why was it teacher did n’t want Peter Paul Rubens
coming to school. Why, he did make such a sweet picture as he did stand
there in the doorway looking looks about. And the grunts he gave, they
were such nice ones. He stood there saying: “I have come to your school.
What class are you going to put me in?” He said in plain grunts the very
same words I did say the first day I came to school. The children all turned
around in their seats. I’m sure they were glad he was come to school—and
him talking there in that dear way. But I guess our teacher does n’t have
understanding of pig-talk. She just came at him in such a hurry with a stick
of wood. And when I made interferes, she did send us both home in a quick
way.
We did have a most happy time coming home. We did go on an
exploration trip. Before we were gone far, we did have hungry feels. I took
the lid off the lard-bucket that my school lunch was in. I did make divides
of all my bread and butter. Part I gave to Peter Paul Rubens and he did have

appreciations. He did grunt grunts for some more. Pretty soon it was all
gone. We did go on. We went on to the woods. I did dig up little plants with
leaves that do stay green all winter. We saw many beautiful things. Most
everything we did see I did explain about it to Peter Paul Rubens. I told him
why—all about why I was digging up so many of the little plants. I did
want him to have understanding that I was going to plant them again. When
I did have almost forty-five, and it was come near eventime, Brave Horatius
and Lars Porsena of Clusium did come to meet us. When I did have forty-
five plants, we all did go in the way that does lead to the cathedral, for this
is the borning day of Girolamo Savonarola. And in the cathedral I did plant
little plants as many years as he was old. Forty-five I did so plant. And we
had prayers and came home.

CHAPTER V

How Opal Comforted Aphrodite, and how the Fairies Comforted Opal
when there Was Much Sadness at School.

Aphrodite has got a nice blue ribbon all her very own, to wear when we
go walking down the lane and to services in the cathedral. The man that
wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did give to Sadie McKibben the
money to buy it last time she went to the mill town. That was on the
afternoon of the day before yesterday. On yesterday, when I was coming my
way home from school, I did meet with Sadie McKibben. It was nice to see
her freckles and the smiles in her eyes. She did have me to shut my eyes,
and she did lay in my hand the new blue ribbon for Aphrodite that the man
that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did have her to get. I felt glad
feels all over. I gave her all our thanks. I did have knowing all my animal
friends would be glad for the remembers of the needs of Aphrodite, for a
blue ribbon.
I did have beginnings of hurry feels to go to the pig-pen. I have thinks
Sadie McKibben saw the hurrys in my eyes. She said she would like to go
hurrys to the pig-pen too, but she was on her way to the house of
Mrs. Limberger. She did kiss me good-bye—two on the cheeks and one on
the nose. I run a quick run to the pig-pen to show it to Aphrodite. I gave her
little pats on the nose and long rubs on the ears, and I did tell her all about
it. I did hold it close to her eyes so she could have well seeing of its
beautiful blues like the blues of the sky. She did grunt thank grunts, and she
had wants to go for a walk right away. I did make invest tag ashuns where

there used to be a weak place in the pig-pen. It was not any more. I did look
close looks at it. I made pulls, but nothing made little slips. Before it was
not like that. I have thinks that chore boy is giving too much at ten chuns to
the fence of this pig-pen that Aphrodite has living in all of the time I am not
taking her on walks. I did feel some sad feels when I could not take her
walking down the lane with her nice new blue ribbon on. While I did feel
the sad feels so, I did carry bracken ferns to make her a nice bed. It brought
her feels of where we were going for walks where the bracken ferns grew.
When I did have her a nice bed of bracken fern and some more all about
her, I went goes to get the other folks. Back with me came Brave Horatius
and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and
Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and Felix Mendelssohn and Louis II, le Grand
Condé. When we were all come, I did climb into the pig-pen and I did tie on
Aphrodite’s new ribbon so they all might have seeing of its blues like the
sky. I sang a little thank song, and we had prayers, and I gave Aphrodite
little scratches on the back with a little stick, like she does so like to have
me do. That was to make up for her not getting to go for a walk where the
bracken ferns grow.
Now teacher is looking very straight looks at me. She says, “Opal, put
that away.” I so do.

To-day it is I do sit here at my desk while the children are out for play for
recess-time. I sit here and I do print. I cannot have goings to talk with the
trees that I do mostly have talks with at recess-time. I cannot have goings
down to the rivière across the road, like I do so go sometimes at recess-
time. I sit here in my seat. Teacher says I must stay in all this whole recess-
time.
It was after some of our reading lessons this morning—it was then
teacher did ask questions of all the school. First she asked Jimmy eight

things at once. She did ask him what is a horse and a donkey and a squirrel
and a engine and a road and a snake and a store and a rat. And he did tell
her all. He did tell her in his way. They she asked Big Jud some things, and
he got up in a slow way and said, “I don’t know,”—like he most always
does,—and he sat down. Then she asked Lola some things, and Lola did tell
her all in one breath. And teacher marked her a good mark in the book and
she gave Lola a smile. And Lola gave her nice red hair a smooth back and
smiled a smile back at teacher.
Then it was teacher did call my name. I stood up real quick. I did have
thinks it would be nice to get a smile from her like the smile she did smile
upon Lola. And teacher did ask me eight things at once. She did ask me
what is a pig and a mouse and a baby deer and a duck and a turkey and a
fish and a colt and a blackbird. And I did say in a real quick way, “A pig is a
cochon and a mouse is a mulot and a baby deer is a daine and a duck is a
canard and a turkey is a dindon and a fish is a poisson and a colt is a
poulain and a blackbird is a merle.” And after each one I did say, teacher
did shake her head and say, “It is not”; and I did say, “It is.”
When I was all through, she did say, “You have them all wrong. You have
not told what they are. They are not what you said they are.” And when she
said that I did just say, “They are—they are—they are.”
Teacher said, “Opal, you sit down.” I so did. But when I sat down I said,
“A pig is a cochon—a mouse is a mulot—a baby deer is a daine—a duck is
a canard—a turkey is a dindon—a fish is a poisson—a colt is a poulain—a
blackbird is a merle.” Teacher says, “Opal, for that you are going to stay in
next recess and both recess-times to-morrow and the next day and the next
day.” Then she did look a look at all the school, and she did say as how my
not getting to go out for recess-times would be an egg sam pull for all the
other children in our school.

They are out at play. It is a most long recess, but I do know a pig is a
cochon, and a mouse is a mulot and a baby deer is a daine and a duck is a
canard and a turkey is a dindon and a fish is a poisson and a colt is a
poulain and a blackbird is a merle. So I do know, for Angel Father always
did call them so. He knows. He knows what things are. But no one
hereabouts does call things by the names Angel Father did. Sometimes I do
have thinks this world is a different world to live in. I do have lonesome
feels.
This is a most long recess. While here I do sit I do hear the talkings of the
more big girls outside the window most near unto my desk. The children are
playing Black Man and the ones more little are playing tag. I have thinks as
how nice it would be to be having talks with Good King Edward I and
lovely Queen Eleanor of Castile and Peter Paul Rubens and Brave Horatius
and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and
Aphrodite. And I do think this is a most long recess.
I still do have hearings of the talkings of the girls outside the windows.
The more old girls are talking what they want. Martha says she wants a
bow. I don’t have seeings why she wants another one. Both her braids were
tied back this morningtime with a new bow, and its color was the color of
the blossoms of camarine. Lola says she wants a white silk dress. She says
her life will be complete when she does have on a white silk dress—a white
silk dress with a little ruffle around the neck and one around each sleeve.
She says she will be a great lady then; and she says all the children will
gather around her and sing when she has her white silk dress on. And while
they sing and while she does have her white silk dress on, she will stand up
and stretch out her arms and bestow her blessing on all the people like the
deacon does in the church at the mill town.
Now teacher is come to the door. She does say, “Opal, you may eat your
lunch—at your desk.” I did have hungry feels and all this is noon-time
instead of short recess-time. It so has been a long recess-time. I did have

thinks when came noon-time of all the things I would do down by the
rivière.

Now I do gather seeds along the road and in the field. I lay in rows side
by side the seeds I gather. With them I do play comparer. I look near looks
at them. I do so to see how they look not like one another. Some are big and
some are not so. And some are more large than others are large. And some
do have wrinkles on them. And some have little wings and some do have
silken sails. Many so of all I did see on my way coming home from school
on this eventime, and too I did see four gray squirrels and two chipmunks;
and when I was come near the meeting of the roads I saw a tramper coming
down the railroad track where the dinky engine comes with cars of lumbers
from the upper camps.
This tramper—he did have a big roll on his back and he walked steps on
the ties in a slow tired way. When I was come more near to the track, I did
have thinks he might have hungry feels. Most trampers do. While I was
having thinks about it, I took the lid off my dinner-pail. There was just a
half a piece of bread and butter left. I was saving that. I was saving it to
make divides between Peter Paul Rubens and Aphrodite and Felix
Mendelssohn and Louis II, le Grand Condé, and the rest of us. I did look
looks from that piece of bread and butter in the dinner-pail to the tramper
going down the railroad track. I did have little feels of the big hungry feels
he might be having. I ran a quick run to catch up with him.
He was glad for it. He ate it in two bites, and I came a quick way to our
lane. I went along it. I made a stop by a hazel bush. I did stop to watch a
caterpillar making his cradle. He did not move about while he did make it.
He did roll himself up in a leaf. That almost hid him. He did weave white
silk about him. I think it must be an interesting life to live a caterpillar life.
Some days I do think I would like to be a caterpillar and by-and-by make a

silk cradle. The silk a caterpillar makes its cradle from does come from its
mouth. I have seen it so. But not so have I seen come the silk the spider
does make its web of. This silk does come from the back part of the back of
the spider.
When I was come to the house we live in, I did do the works the mamma
did have for me to do. Then I made begins to fill the wood-box. When I did
have ten sticks piled on its top, I looked to the door where the mamma was
talking with Elsie. I did have sorry feels for the mamma. I heard her say she
lost ten minutes. I did have wants to help her find them. I looked looks
under the cupboard, and they were not there. I looked looks in the cook-
table drawers, and they were not there. I looked looks into every machine-
that-sews drawer, and I did n’t find them. I crawled under the bed, but I had
no seeing of them. Then I did look looks in all the corners of the house that
we do live in. I looked looks all about. But I did n’t find them. I have
wonders where those ten minutes the mamma lost are gone. While I did
look more looks about for them, she did say for me to get out of her way. I
so did.
I went to look for the fairies. I went to the near woods. I hid behind the
trees and made little runs to big logs. I walked along the logs and I went
among the ferns. I did tiptoe among the ferns. I looked looks about. I did
touch fern-fronds and I did have feels of their gentle movements. I came to
a big root. I hid in it. I so did to wait waits for the fairies that come among
the big trees.
While I did wait waits, I did have thinks about that letter I did write on
the other day for more color pencils that I do have needs of to print with. I
thought I would go to the moss-box by the old log. I thought I would have
goes there to see if the fairies yet did find my letter. I went. The letter—it
was gone. Then I did have joy feels all over. The color pencils—they were
come. There was a blue one and a green one and a yellow one. And there

was a purple one and a brown one and a red one. I did look looks at them a
long time. It was so nice, the quick way the fairies did bring them.
While I was looking more looks at them, some one did come near the old
root. It was my dear friend Peter Paul Rubens. I gave him four pats and I
showed him all the color pencils. Then I did make a start to go to the mill
by the far woods. Peter Paul Rubens went with me and Brave Horatius
came a-following after. All the way along I did feel glad feels, and I had
thinks how happy the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice
would be when he did see how quick the fairies did answer my letter and
bring the color pencils.

LUMBER-CAMP FOLK

When we were come near the mill by the far woods, it was near gray-
light-time. The lumber men were on their home way. They did whistle as
they did go. Two went side by side, and three came after. And one came
after all. It was the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. Brave
Horatius made a quick run to meet him, and I did follow after. I did have

him guess what it was the fairies did bring this time. He guessed a sugar-
lump for William Shakespeare every day next week. I told him it was n’t a
right guess. He guessed some more. But he could n’t guess right, so I
showed them all to him.
He was so surprised. He said he was so surprised the fairies did bring
them this soon. And he was so glad about it. He always is. He and I—we do
have knows the fairies walk often in these woods, and when I do have needs
of more color pencils to make more prints with, I do write the fairies about
it. I write to them a little letter on leaves of trees and I do put it in the moss-
box at the end of the old log. Then, after they do come walking in the
woods and find the letter in the moss-box, they do bring the color pencils,
and they lay them in the moss-box. I find them there and I am happy.
No one does have knowing of that moss-box but one. He is the man that
wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. He has knowings of the letters I do
print on leaves and put there for the fairies. And after he does ask me, and
after I do tell him I have wrote to them for color pencils that I have needs of
—he does take a little fern plant and make a fern wish with it that the fairies
will bring to me the color pencils I have needs of. Then we do plant the
little fern by the old log. And the time is not long until I do find the color
pencils in the moss-box by the old log. I am very happy.

CHAPTER VI

Opal Gives Wisdom to the Potatoes, Cleanliness to the Family Clothes,
and a Delicate Dinner to Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.

To-day the grandpa dug potatoes in the field. Too, the chore boy did dig
potatoes in the field. I followed along after. My work was to pick up the
potatoes they got out of the ground. I picked them up and piled them in
piles. Some of them were very plump. Some of them were not big. All of
them wore brown dresses. When they were in piles, I did stop to take looks
at them. I walked up close. I looked them all over. I walked off and took a
long look at them. Potatoes are very interesting folks. I think they must see
a lot of what is going on in the earth; they have so many eyes. And after I
did look those looks as I did go along, I did count the eyes that every potato
did have, and their numbers were in blessings.
To some piles I did stop to give geology lectures, and some I did tell
about the nursery and the caterpillars in it—the caterpillars that are going to
hiver sleep in silken cradles, and some in woolen so go. To more potatoes I
did tell about my hospital at St.-Germain-en-Laye in the near woods, and all
about the folks that were in it and that are in it, and how much prayers and
songs and mentholatum helps them to have well feels.
And to some other potatoes I did talk about my friends—about the talks
that William Shakespeare and I do have together; and about how Lars
Porsena of Clusium does have a fondness for collecting things, and how he
does hide them in the oak tree near unto the house we live in; and about
Elizabeth Barrett Browning and the poetry in her tracks. And one I did tell

about the new ribbon Aphrodite has to wear, and how she does have a
fondness for chocolate creams. To the potato most near unto it I did tell of
the little bell that Peter Paul Rubens does wear to cathedral service. To the
one next to it I did tell how Louis II, le Grand Condé, is a mouse of gentle
ways, and how he does have likings to ride in my sleeve.
And all the times I was picking up potatoes I did have conversations with
them. Too, I did have thinks of all their growing days there in the ground,
and all the things they did hear. Earth-voices are glad voices, and earth-
songs come up from the ground through the plants; and in their flowering
and in the days before these days are come, they do tell the earth-songs to
the wind. And the wind in her goings does whisper them to folks to print for
other folks. So other folks do have knowing of earth’s songs. When I grow
up I am going to write for children—and grown-ups that have n’t grown up
too much—all the earth-songs I now do hear.
I have thinks these potatoes growing here did have knowings of star-
songs. I have kept watch in the field at night and I have seen the stars look
kindness down upon them. And I have walked between the rows of
potatoes, and I have watched the star-gleams on their leaves. And I have
heard the wind ask of them the star-songs the star-gleams did tell in
shadows on their leaves. And as the wind did go walking in the field talking
to the earth-voices there, I did follow her down the rows. I did have feels of
her presence near. And her goings by made ripples on my nightgown.
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus did cuddle more close up in my arms. And
Brave Horatius followed after.
Sometimes, when a time long it is I have been walking and listening to
the voices of the night, then it is Brave Horatius does catch the corner of my
nightgown in his mouth and he pulls—he pulls most hard in the way that
does go to the house we live in. After he does pull, he barks the barks he
always does bark when he has thinks it is home-going time. I listen.
Sometimes I go back. He goes with me. Sometimes I go on. He goes with

me. And often it is he is here come with me to this field where the potatoes
grow. And he knows most all the poetry I have told them.
On the afternoon of to-day, when I did have a goodly number of potatoes
in piles, I did have thinks as how this was the going-away day of
Saint François of Assisi and the borning day of Jean François Millet; so I
did take as many potatoes as they years did dwell upon earth. Forty-four
potatoes I so took for Saint François of Assisi, for his years were near unto
forty-four. Sixty potatoes I so took for Jean François Millet, for his years
were sixty years. All these potatoes I did lay in two rows. In one row was
forty-four and in the other row was sixty.
And as I had seeing of them all there, I did have thinks to have a choir.
First I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus.” After I did sing
it three times, I did have thinks as how it would be nice to have more in the
choir. And I did have remembers as how to-morrow is the going-away day
of Philippe III, roi de France; and so for the forty years that were his years I
did bring forty more potatoes in a row. That made more in the choir. Then I
did sing three times over, “Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritu Sancto. Hosanna
in excelsis.” Before I did get all through the last time with Hosanna in
excelsis, I did have thinks as how the next day after that day would be the
borning day of Louis Philippe, roi de France, and the going-away day of
Alfred Tennyson. And I did bring more potatoes for the choir. Seventy-six I
did so bring for the years that were the years of Louis Philippe, roi de
France. Eighty-three I so did bring for the years that were the years of
Alfred Tennyson. And the choir—there was a goodly number of folks in it
—all potato folks wearing brown robes. Then I did sing one “Ave Maria.”
I was going to sing one more, when I did have thinks as how the next day
after the next day after the next day would be the going-away day of
Sir Philip Sidney; so I did bring thirty-one more potatoes for the choir. It
did take a more long time to bring them, because all the potatoes near about
were already in the choir. Brave Horatius did walk by my side, and he did

have seeing as how I was bringing potatoes to the choir. And so he did bring
some—one at a time he did pick them up and bring them, just like he does
pick up a stick of wood in his mouth when I am carrying in wood. He is a
most helpful dog. To-day I did have needs to keep watches. I did so have
needs to see that he put not more potatoes in the other choir-rows. First time
he did bring a potato, he did lay it down by the choir-row of Alfred
Tennyson. Next potato he did bring he did lay it by the choir-row of Jean
François Millet. Next time I made a quick run when I did have seeing of
him going to lay it down by the choir-row of Philippe III, roi de France. I
did pat my foot and tell him where to lay it for the choir-row of Sir Philip
Sidney. He so did. We did go for more.
When there were thirty-one potatoes in the choir-row of Sir Philip
Sidney, we did start service again. I did begin with “Sanctus, sanctus,
sanctus, Dominus Deus.” And Brave Horatius did bark Amen. Then I did
begin all over, and he did so again. After we had prayers, I did sing one
more “Ave Maria.” Then I did begin to sing “Deo Gratias, Hosanna in
excelsis,” but I came not unto its ending. Brave Horatius did bark Amen
before I was half done. I just went on. He walked in front of me and did
bark Amen three times.
I was just going to sing the all of it. I did not so. I so did not because the
chore boy did have steps behind me. He gave me three shoulder-shakes, and
he did tell me to get a hurry on me and get those potatoes picked up. I so
did. I so did in a most quick way. The time it did take to pick them up—it
was not a long time. And after that there was more potatoes to pick up.
Brave Horatius did follow after. He gave helps. He did lay the potatoes he
did pick up on the piles I did pick up. He is a most good dog. When near
gray-light-time was come, the chore boy went from the field. When most-
dark-time was come Brave Horatius and I so went. When we were come to
the house we live in, the folks was gone to visit at the house of Elsie. I did
take my bowl of bread and milk, and I did eat it on the back steps. Brave

Horatius ate his supper near me. He did eat his all long before I did mine.
So I did give him some of mine. Then we watched the stars come out.

I did not have goings to school to-day, for this is wash-day and the
mamma did have needs of me at home. There was baby clothes to wash.
The mamma does say that is my work, and I do try to do it in the proper
way she does say it ought to be done. It does take quite a long time, and all
the time it is taking I do have longings to go on exploration trips. And I do
want to go talk with William Shakespeare there where he is pulling logs in
the near woods. And I do want to go talk with Elizabeth Barrett Browning
in the pasture, and with Peter Paul Rubens and Aphrodite in the pig-pens.
All the time it does take to wash the clothes of the baby—it is a long time.
And I do stop at in-between times to listen to the voices. They are always
talking. And the brook that does go by our house is always bringing songs
from the hills.
When the clothes of the baby were most white, I did bring them again to
the wash-bench that does set on the porch that does go out from our back
door. Then there was the chickens to feed, and the stockings were to rub.
Stockings do have needs of many rubs. That makes them clean. While I did
do the rubs, I did sing little songs to the grasses that grow about our door.
After the stockings did have many rubs, the baby it was to tend. I did sing it
songs of songs Angel Mother did sing to me. And sleeps came upon the
baby. But she is a baby that does have wake-ups between times. To-day she
had a goodly number.
By-and-by, when the washing was part done, then the mamma went away
to the grandma’s house to get some soap. When she went away she did say
she wished she did n’t have to bother with carrying water to scrub the floor.
She does n’t. While she has been gone a good while, I have plenty of water
on the floor for her to mop it when she gets back. When she did go away,

she said to me to wring the clothes out of the wash. There were a lot of
clothes in the wash—skirts and aprons and shirts and dresses and clothes
that you wear under dresses. Every bit of clothes I took out of the tubs I
carried into the kitchen and squeezed all the water out on the kitchen floor.
That makes lots of water everywhere—under the cook-table and under the
cupboard and under the stove. Why, there is most enough water to mop the
three floors, and then some water would be left over. I did feel glad feels
because it was so as the mamma did want it.
While I did wait for her coming, I did make prints and mind the baby.
When the mamma was come, she did look not glad looks at the water on the
floor. She did only look looks for the switches over the kitchen window.
After I did have many sore feels, she put me out the door to stay out. I did
have sorry feels for her. I did so try hard to be helps.
When a little way I was gone from the door, I did look looks about. I saw
brown leaves and brown birds. Brown leaves were érable leaves and chêne
leaves, and the brown birds were wrens. And all their ways were hurry
ways. I did turn about and I did go in a hurry way to a root in the near
woods. I so went to get my little candle. Then I did go to the Jardin des
Tuileries. Often it is I do go there near unto the near woods. Many days
after I was here come, I did go ways to look for Jardin des Tuileries. I found
it not. Sadie McKibben did say there is none such here. Then being needs
for it and it being not, I did have it so. And in it I have put statues of hiver
and all the others, and here I do plant plants and little trees. And every little
tree that I did plant it was for someone that was. And on their borning days I
do hold services by the trees I have so planted for them.
To-day I did go in quick steps to the tree I have planted for Louis
Philippe, roi de France, for this is the day of his borning in 1773. I did have
prayers. Then I did light my little candle. Seventy-six big candles Angel
Father did so light for him, but so I cannot do, for only one little candle I
have. It did burn in a bright way. Then I did sing “Deo Gratias.” I so did

sing for the borning day of Louis Philippe, roi de France. Then I did sing
“Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus.”
Afterwards I did have thinks about Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus—
about his nose, its feels. I so went in the way that does go to the hospital.
That dear pet rat’s nose is getting well. Some way he got his nose too near
that trap they set for rats in the barn. Of course, when I found him that
morning I let him right out of the trap. He has a ward all to himself in the
hospital. For breakfast he has some of my oatmeal. For dinner he has some
of my dinner. And for supper I carry to him corn in a jar lid. Sadie
McKibben, who has on her face many freckles and a kind heart, gives me
enough mentholatum to put on his nose seven times a day. And he is
growing better. And to-day when I was come to the hospital, I took him in
my arms. He did cuddle up.
Too, he gave his cheese squeak. That made me have lonesome feels. I
can’t carry cheese to him any more out of the house we live in. I can’t
because, when the mamma learned that I was carrying cheese to Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, she said to me while she did apply a kindling to the
back part of me: “Don’t you dare carry any more cheese out to that rat.”
And since then I do not carry cheese out to Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus,
but I do carry him into the kitchen to the cheese. I let him sniff long sniffs at
it. Then I push his nose back and I cut from the big piece of cheese delicate
slices for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. This I do when the mamma is n’t
at home.
To-day, she being come again to the house we live in, I could not have
goings there for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to the cheese. I did go the
way that goes to the house of Sadie McKibben. I did go that way so she
might have knowings of the nose-improvements of Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus. When I was most come here he did squeak more of his cheese
squeaks. It was most hard—having hearing of him and not having cheese
for him. I could hardly keep from crying. He is a most lovely wood-rat, and

all his ways are ways of gentleness. And he is just like the mamma’s baby—
when he squeaks he does have expects to get what he squeaks for. I did
cuddle him up more close in my arms. And he had not squeaks again for
some little time. It was when I was talking to Sadie McKibben about the
château of Neuilly that I do have most part done—it was then he did give
his squeaks. He began and went on and did continue so. I just could n’t
keep from crying. His cheese longings are like my longings for Angel
Mother and Angel Father. He did just crawl up and put his nose against my
curls. I did stand first on one foot and then on the other. The things I was
going to say did go in a swallow down my throat.
Sadie McKibben did wipe her hands on her blue gingham apron with
cross stitches on it. She did have askings what was the matter with Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. And I just said, “O Sadie McKibben, it’s his cheese
squeak.” And she said not a word, but she did go in a quick way to her
kitchen. She brought back a piece of cheese. It was n’t a little piece. It was a
great big piece. There’s enough in it for four breakfasts and six dinners.
When Sadie McKibben did give it to me for him, she did smooth back my
curls and she did give me three kisses—one on each cheek and one on the
nose. She smiled her smile upon us, and we were most happy, and we did
go from her house to the cathedral. There I did have a thank service for the
goodness of God and the goodness of Sadie McKibben, and the piece of
cheese that did bring peace to the lovely Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.

CHAPTER VII

The Adventure of the Tramper; and what Happens on Long and on Short
Days.

To-day was a fall-time-is-here day. I heard the men say so that were
talking at the meeting of the roads. From the meeting of the roads I did
hurry on. I so did in a quick way because, when I was come to the meeting
of the roads, I did have remembers as how the mamma did say at
morningtime there was much work to be done before eventime.
When I was come to the house we live in, the mamma and the little girl
and the baby—they were all gone to the house of Elsie. I made a start at the
works. I did feed the chickens, and there was much wood to bring in, and
baby clothes to wash, and ashes to empty from the stove. These four things
I did. I looked looks about to see what other works did have needs to be
done. I had remembers that when the papa went away to work this morning
he said he did not have time to cut the ham before he went. I have knows if
he is too busy in the morning to get a thing done, it mostly don’t get done
when he comes home from work at night. It so does not, because he has so
tired feels.
To-day I had thinks the time was come when I better help about that ham.
I went out to the wood-shed. I went not out to get wood. I went out to the
wood-shed to ’tend to that ham. I had thinks I better make an early start or
that ham would n’t be cut up by evening. I piled wood high enough so I
could stand on tiptoes and reach to the flour-sack the ham was tied in. But I
could not get that sack down. I pulled and pulled, but it would n’t come

down. I did n’t have knows what I was going to do. Pretty soon, by having
concentration of my thinks, I thought of a way. I got the scissors and cut the
bottom out of that sack. That ham came down right quick. It landed on its
back on the woodpile. My foot slipped and I landed on top of it.
I got up and dragged it up on the chopping-block. Then I got the butcher
knife from its place in the cook-table drawer. I went to work. That knife did
n’t seem to make moves like the moves it does make when it is in the hands
of the papa. I tried to make it go down in a quick way. It went not so. I
looked close looks at it. Its appears did have looks like it did have needs of
a sharp pennying. I have seen the papa sharp pen it on the grindstone by the
singing brook. So did I. I poured a goodly amount of water on that stone
wheel. Most of the water splashed off. The rest did trickle away. Then I did
hold that knife to the stone wheel. And I did make tries to turn it in a quick
way like I have seen the papa do. But I could not make that wheel go in
quick turns. It would not so go. I made big tries for a long time.
When I had thinks the knife did look some better, I did go again to my
work. I walked three times around that ham there on the chopping-block. I
so did to take looks at it to see where I better make begins. I did have thinks
in under its outside where it is most big would be the proper place. I made
begins. I did make the knife to go a little way. Then I made a stop to rest.
Then I made the knife go some more. I made another stop to rest. I went on.
Pretty soon a slice of ham landed. It fell off the chopping-block onto a stick
of wood. I picked it up. I held it up to take a look at it. My, I did feel such
proud feels from my toes to my curls. I had it cut in such a nice way. It had
frills around it and holes in between—just like Elsie’s crochet doily that she
keeps on her best stand-table. I have knows the papa never did cut a slice of
ham that way. The slices of ham he cuts—they never do have frilly looks
with holes in between. After I did hang that slice of ham on a nail by the
door, I did cut another slice. It was not so wide but it had more longness and
some strings on it like the little short strings on the nightcap of Jenny

Strong. I had not decides yet where to hang it. It was when I was having
thinks about it—it was then I did hear a heavy step.
I turned me all about, and there was a tramper by the wood-shed door. He
had not gentle looks like some trampers have. His beard did grow in the
hobo way. And his appears did look like he knew not knowings of neatness.
He stood there looking looks at that ham. He kept his looks on it, and he did
walk right into the wood-shed. He had asking if the mamma was at home. I
said, “No, she is not. She is at the house of Elsie.” Then he says, “I guess
I’ll take this ham along with me.”
I almost lost my breathings, because I did have remembers of all the days
the papa has plans to have that ham for breakfast and dinner and supper. So
I just sat down on the chopping-block. I sat on the ham and I spread my
blue calicoe apron out over it. I put my hand on its handle that it hangs in
the wood-shed by. Me and my apron covered that ham so he could n’t have
seeing of it. And while I sat on the ham, I did pray God to keep it safe for
the breakfasts and dinners and suppers of the papa and the mamma.
The tramper looked queer looks at me. He came a little more near. I did
pray on. And God in his goodness sent answers to my prayer in a quick
way. Brave Horatius came on a run from somewhere. He made a stop at the
wood-shed door. He looked a look in. He gave a growl. Then he went at that
tramper. He did grab him by his ragged pants. I have thinks maybe his teeth
did touch the ankle of the tramper, because he gave a little pain squeal and
shook his leg. Then he did go in a hurry away. Brave Horatius followed
after.
I was just going to start work again on that ham, when the mamma was
come home from her visit. She did soon give me a whipping and put me
here under the bed. Now I have wonders what that whipping was for. I did
feed the chickens and carry in the wood and do the baby’s washing and

empty the ashes. And more I did beside—I cut two slices of ham with frills
on them.
Now I have thinks about trampers—how they do differ. Many of them
follow the railroad track. They make goes to the upper camps beyond the
rivière. They do carry a roll on their backs. They so carry their blankets.
They go that way and some of them come down the track very soon again.
Some stay nowhere long.
Some of the trampers that go the way that goes to the upper camps do
have stops when they go by here. They stop to get a bite to eat. And some
come to the front door, and some do come to the back door. They knock on
the door. Some rap their knuckles hard and some tap in a gentle way. There
was one who so did one week ago. Sleeps was just come upon the baby
after I did sing it “Le chanson de Saint Firmin,” and I did go to the door to
see who it was. The man that it was, he said he was on his way to get work
at the upper camps. He was a man with a clean sad face and a kind look in
his eyes. And the roll upon his back was a heavy roll. I straightway did go
and get my bowl of bread and milk that I was going to have for dinner. I
gave it to him. He ate it in a hungry way, like Brave Horatius does eat his
supper when we are come back from a long explore trip. Then, when the
man did eat all the bread and milk, he did split some wood out in the
woodshed. He did pile it up in a nice way. Then he went. He went on to the
upper camps. When he did go he said, “The Lord’s blessing be with you,
child.” I said, “It is.” And I did tell him, “We have a cathedral in the woods
—and this eventime, when we have prayers there, we will pray that you
may get work at the upper camps.” And at coming of eventime we did. And
Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen at in-between times. Now every day we
do pray for the man that was hungry and had a kind look in his eyes.

Some days are long. Some days are short. The days that I have to stay in
the house are the most long days of all. In the morningtime of now, I had
thinks to go on explores. I was going to Saint Firmin and adown the
Nonette. I was going to listen to its singings. And Peter Paul Rubens and
Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus—we were all going together. When I did have the wood in the wood-
box, the mamma hollered at me. She said when she got back from Elsie’s
she was going to make me stay in the house all the rest of the day.
While she was gone to the house of Elsie, I did make prepares. I took all
the safety-pins out of the machine drawer. I took all the patch-pieces out of
the mamma’s work-basket. I made patches all over my underskirt except
where I do sit down. I put Louis II, le Grand Condé, in one of the pockets I
did so make. I put Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil in another one. In one more
pocket I put Felix Mendelssohn. He peeked out. Then he settled down. He
so does like to take naps in the pockets I pin on my underskirts. I put
Nannerl Mozart in another pocket. Then, when the mamma was come, I did
walk into the house in a quiet way.
Before she did go she told me do’s to do while she was gone. She told me
to keep the fire going and to tend the baby—to fix its bottle for it and to
mind it all the time. Then she shut the door and locked it and went in the
way that does go to the house of the grandma by the meeting of the roads. I
did watch her out the window. Then I did put some more wood in the fire.
After that I did look looks about. There are no rows and rows and rows of
books in this house, like Angel Mother and Angel Father had. There is only
three books here. One is a cook-book and one is a doctor-book and one is a
almanac. They all are on top of the cupboard most against the top of the
house. They have not interest names on their backs. The alarm-clock does
set on the shelf where it always sets all day long. At night-time it sets on a
chair by the bed that the mamma and the papa sleep in. It sets on the chair
all night with its alarm set. It is so the papa will be made awake early in the

morning. That clock has interest looks. Some day when there is not a fire in
the stove, I have thinks I will take that clock apart to see what its looks are
inside. On a day when there is no fire in the stove, I will climb upon it. I can
reach that shelf when I stand on tiptoe on top of the stove.
After I did look looks at the clock, I did look looks out the front window.
There are calf-tracks by our front door. These tracks are there because when
I went walking with Elizabeth Barrett Browning on yesterday, I had her
wait at the front step while I did go into the kitchen to get her some sugar-
lumps. She has a fondness for sweet things. I think she will grow up to be a
lovely cow. Her mooings now are very musical, and there is poetry in her
tracks. She does make such dainty ones. When they dry up in the lane, I dig
up her tracks, and I save them. There is much poetry in them; and when I
take her track out that I keep in the back part of the cook-table drawer, I
look at it and think, this way passed Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
After I did look looks out the front window, I did look looks out the back
window. William Shakespeare and the others—they were pulling in logs.
That Rob Ryder was trying to make them go more fast. All the horses do
have to pull so hard when they pull logs in. Sometimes they look tired
looks, and when they are come in from work I go to the barn. I rub their
heads; for when the mamma is tired she does like rubs on her head.

CHAPTER VIII

How Opal Takes a Walk in the Forest of Chantilly; she Visits Elsie and
her Baby Boy, and Explains Many Things to the Girl that Has no Seeing.

While I did watch the horses, the baby had wake-ups. I went to sing her
to sleep. I sang her about William Wordsworth. When sleeps was come
upon the baby I had remembers when she went away the mamma wished
she did have some varnish to shine up the furniture with. So while she is
gone I have given the furniture a shine-up with vaseline. Vaseline gives just
as bright a shine as varnish does. I have aunt tis a pay shuns the mamma
will be pleased when her arrives come home.
When the furniture was all fixed proper, I looked a look out the window.
Raindrops were beginning to come down from the sky. Their coming was in
a gentle way. I had longs to be out with them. I so do like to feel the
raindrops patter on my head and I like to run runs and hold out my hands to
meet them. There was more rain and there was sunshine. There came across
the sky the arc-en-ciel. Then was its going, and grayness after. I watched
the raindrops in the brook going on and on. When I grow up I am going to
write a book about a raindrop’s journey.
While I did watch the raindrops I had longs to go to the forêt de Chantilly
and adown by Nonette. I did have thinks more about it. I took some of the
wood out of the wood-box. I stood it up for trees. I called them all forêt de
Chantilly. We went a walk between them—Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and I
did. Then I took the dipper full of water and I let it pour in little pours a
rivière on the kitchen floor. That was for Nonette. Then all of us went a

walk by Nonette. We went in little steps to make the time go longer. Felix
Mendelssohn perched on my shoulder. Louis II, le Grand Condé, did ride in
my hands, and Nannerl Mozart in my apron pocket. I took some more water
and the dipper and I made it go a little rivière to join Nonette. Then we went
a walk by Lounette. And more I did pour in little pours to join Nonette. That
was for Aunette.
After we did have walks all in between the forêt de Chantilly, I took
more sticks from the wood-box back of the stove and I made another forêt.
Then we went walking in the forêt d’Ermenonville. When we were come
back from that walk, I made some lions out of cheese. Two I made. I made
them to put in forêt de Chantilly at the begins of route du Connétable. Then
we went a walk again in forêt de Chantilly. I had to have carefuls not to go
a step too big, because I did stand the sticks of wood near unto one another,
and if I took a big step they might have falls over.
While I was standing up more sticks of woods for more trees in forêt de
Chantilly, the baby did have wake-ups. I went to sing it to sleep. I sang it
about Good King Edward I. When I went again into the kitchen, there was
Louis II, le Grand Condé, and Felix Mendelssohn and Nannerl Mozart all in
the forêt de Chantilly. They were at the begins of the route du Connétable.
They were nibbling nibbles at the two lions there of cheese. Already they
did have ragged noses, where all of the three mouses did nibble nibbles. I
have thinks I will have to make lions of stone for the begins of route du
Connétable. The baby had wakes-up again. I did sing it to sleep with chant
d’automne.
Now I sit here and I print. The baby sleeps on. The wind comes creeping
in under the door. It calls, “Come, come, petite Françoise, come.” It calls to
me to come go exploring. It sings of the things that are to be found under
leaves. It whispers the dreams of the tall fir trees. It does pipe the gentle
song the forest sings on gray days. I hear all the voices calling me. I listen
—but I cannot go.

Now are come the days of brown leaves. They fall from the trees. They
flutter on the ground. When the brown leaves flutter, they are saying little
things. They talk with the wind. I hear them tell of their borning days when
they did come into the world as leaves. And they whisper of the hoods they
wore then. I saw them. I use to count them on the way to school. To-day
they were talking of the time before their borning days of this springtime.
They talked on and on, and I did listen on to what they were telling the
wind and the earth in their whisperings. They told how they were a part of
earth and air before their tree-borning days. And now they are going back.
In gray days of winter they go back to the earth again. But they do not die.
And in the morning of to-day it was that I did listen to these talkings of
the brown leaves. Then I faced about. I turned my face and all of me to the
way that leads to the house we live in, for there was much works to be
done.
When I was come to the house I went around and I did walk in the back
doorway. The mamma was n’t in. I took long looks about to see what works
I best do first. There was washed-up dishes in a bake-pan, so I did dish-
towel them all and put them away. There was needs to climb upon a chair
and upon a box, to put those dishes where they ought to be put. While I was
up there, I took looks about to see what there was. I saw a cake of bon ami.
Bon ami is to give things a shine-up. And this morning I gave the knives a
shine-up and the forks too. Then I tried bon ami on the black kettles and the
bake-pans. It did not give unto them such nice appears, so I gave them a
shine-up with vaseline. After that I did take the broom from its place, and I
gave the floor a good brooming. I broomed the boards up and down and
cross-ways. There was not a speck of dirt on them left. What I did sweep off
with the broom, I did place into a shoe-box lid and dust it in the stove. Then
the floor did look clean like the mamma does say it ought to look all the
time. I put the broom back in its place where the mamma does say it ought
to be.

Then I did look looks from the floor to the window. I thought I better
clean the window too while I was fixing things. Just when I started to put
bon ami on the window, I did look out to see what I could see. I saw
Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon going in a slow walk by. He was giving his
neck a stretch-out. He gave it another one, and when he made a swallow his
throat did look appears of croup. And croup does always have needs of
being fixed up. So I laid down the bon ami, and I went and I did pour a
whole lot of coal-oil down the throat of Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon.
That was to make his croup go away. Now he will be feeling well feels real
soon. He did n’t want to take the coal-oil. I had to hold him tight. Some
turkey gobblers can kick most hard.
When I did have him fixed I thought I better take looks about to see if
any more folks did have croup appears. I yet did have some coal-oil left in
the bottle. Few folks were about, and none did have croup looks. So I did
go again to the cleaning of the window. When that was done in the proper
way the mamma says it ought to be done, I did stop to eat some bread and
milk, for it was after dinner-time and it was a long time before supper-time.
After that I went out in the wood-shed where the papa keeps his tools. He
keeps them in a big box. Some days he forgets to lock the box. Those days I
have very interesting times in the wood-shed. There are all kinds of queer-
looking things in that tool-box. Just when I did have the lid open the
mamma did call.
She was come again home, and she sent me back to Elsie’s to get the tidy
she was crocheting that she did forget and leave there. So I did go the way
that does lead to the house of Elsie. It is not far from the house we live in,
and Elsie has not been married long. She only has one baby. She has much
liking for it. Elsie is a very young girl—a very young girl to be married, the
mamma says. To-day when I came to the house of Elsie, she was trotting on
her knee that dear baby boy the angels brought her when she did live at the
other camp where we did live too. To him she was singing a song. It was—

“Gallop-a-trot,
Gallop-a-trot,
This is the way the gentle­men ride,
Gallop-a-trot.”

She tossed her head as she did sing. And the joy-light danced in her eyes.
I have thinks it must be wonderful happiness to be married. I have seen
the same joy-light in the eyes of her tall young husband. It is there much
when he is come home at eventide from work in the woods. Then she does
have many kind words and kisses for him. He has adoors for her, and too he
has a pumpadoor that he smooths back with vaseline. Why to-day I did see
he had used most all of the vaseline out of that jar that sets on their kitchen
shelf. That vaseline jar has an interest look. I have been watching it. And
every day when I do stand on tiptoe and take peeks at it, there is not so
much vaseline in it as there was in it the day before. I have thinks it does
take a goodly amount to keep his pumpadoor smooth.
While I was bringing home the tidy the mamma did leave at the house of
Elsie, I met a chapine baby. He did sail away. Érable leaves did go in little
hops, and so went I. Soon I saw a gray board. I did turn it over. Under that
old gray board were five little silk bags. They were white and they did feel
lumps. I know baby spiders will come out of them when comes spring days,
because last year I found bags like these, and this year in the spring baby
spiders walked out. They were very fidgety youngsters.
Just when I did most have decides to take them to the nursery, I heard the
mamma calling. I put the board back again in the way it was before I came
that way. Then I did run a quick run to the house. And the mamma did send
me in a hurry to the wood-shed. It was for two loads of wood she wanted. I
did bring in the first load in a hurry. The second load I brought not so. I did
pick up all the sticks my arms could hold. While I was picking them up, I
looked long looks at them. I went not to the kitchen with them in a quick

way. I was meditating. I did have thinks about the tree they all were before
they got chopped up. I did wonder how I would feel if I was a very little
piece of wood that got chopped out of a very big tree. I did think that it
would have hurt my feelings. I felt of the feelings of the wood. They did
have a very sad feel.
Just when I was getting that topmost stick a bit wet with sympathy tears
—then the mamma did come up behind me with a switch. She said while
she did switch, “Stop your meditations.” And while she did switch, I did
drop the wood. I felt the feels the sticks of wood felt when they hit the floor.
Then I did pick them up with care and I put them all in the wood-box back
of the cook-stove. I put them there because the mamma said I must put
them there. But all the time I was churning I did hum a little song. It was a
good-bye song to the sticks in the wood-box back of the kitchen stove.
When the churning was done and the butter was come, the mamma did
lift all the little lumps of butter out of the churn. Then she did pat them
together in a big lump, and this she put away in the butter-box in the wood-
shed. When she went to lay herself down to rest on the bed, she did call me
to rub her head. I like to rub the mamma’s head, for it does help the worry
lines to go away. Often I rub her head, for it is often she does have longings
to have it so. And I do think it is very nice to help people have what they do
have longings for.
By-and-by, when the mamma did have sleeps and after I did print, I did
go to listen to the voices. The wind was calling. His calling was to little
wood-folk and me. He did call more again: “Come, petite Françoise, come
go explores.” He was in a rush. I raced. Brave Horatius ran. We played tag
with the wind. The wind does have many things to tell. He does toss back
one’s curls so he can whisper things in one’s ears. To-day he did twice push
back my curls three times, that I might better hear what he did have to say.
He whispered little whispers about the cradles of moths to be that hang a-
swinging on the bushes in the woods. I went around to see about it. I looked

looks on many bushes. Some brown leaves were swinging from some
bushes. No cradles I found.
By-and-by I came to a log. It was a nice little log. It was as long as three
pigs as long as Peter Paul Rubens. I climbed upon it. I so did to look more
looks about. The wind did blow in a real quick way. He made music all
around. I danced on the log. It is so much a big amount of joy to dance on a
log when the wind does play the harps in the forest. Then do I dance on
tiptoe. I wave greetings to the plant-bush folks that do dance all about. To-
day a grand pine tree did wave its arms to me. And the bush branches patted
my cheek in a friendly way. The wind again did blow back my curls. They
clasp the fingers of the bush people most near. I did turn around to untangle
them. It is most difficult to dance on tiptoe on a log when one’s curls are in
a tangle with the branches of a friendly bush that grows near unto the log
and does make bows to one while the wind doth blow.
When I did turn to untangle my curls, I saw a silken cradle in a hazel
branch. I have thinks that the wind did just tangle my curls so I would have
seeing of that cradle. It was cream, with a hazel leaf half-way round it. I put
it to my ear and I did listen. It had a little voice. It was not a tone voice. It
was a heart voice. While I did listen, I did feel its feels. It has lovely ones.
And I did hurry away in the way that does lead to the house of the girl that
has no seeing. I went that way so she too might know its feels and hear its
heart voice. She does so like to feel things. She has seeing by feels. Often I
do carry things to her when I find them and she knows some of my friends.
Peter Paul Rubens has gone with me to visit her. So has gone Felix
Mendelssohn and Nannerl Mozart—the two mices with voices that squeak
mouse-songs in the night. And Plato and Pliny, the two bats, and others go
too. And their goings and what she has thinks about them I have printed
here in my prints. And it is often I go the way that does lead to her house,
for the girl who has no seeing—she and I—we are friends.

One day I told her about the trees talking. Then she did want to know
about the voices, and now I do help her to hear them. And too I tell her
about comparer, that Angel Father did teach me to play, and I show her the
way. She cannot look long looks at things, to see how they look not looks
alike, because she has no seeing. So she is learning to play comparer by
feels.
To-day, after she did feel the feels of the cream cradle and we did play
comparer, then she asked me what the trees were saying. And I led her out
across her yard and away to the woods, and Brave Horatius did follow after.
I led her in the way that does lead to that grand fir tree, Good
King Louis VI. And when we were come unto him, I did touch his finger-
tips to her cheeks. She liked that. Then we did stand near unto him, and I
told her of the trees in the night, of the things they tell to the shadows that
wander through the woods. She said she did n’t think she would like to be a
shadow.
And just then she stubbed her toe. She did ask me what that was there
near unto her foot. I told her it was a ville I did build there—the ville of
St. Denis. She wanted to know why I builded it there. I told her there was
needs of it, being near unto Good King Louis VI, for he so loved it; so I
builded it there where his branches shelter it and his kindness looks kind
looks upon it. And I did tell her about his being on his way to St. Denis
when he died. While I builded up again the corner of the abbey, I did give
explanations about how lovely it is to be a gray shadow walking along and
touching the faces of people. Shadows do have such velvety fingers.
After that we did go on. We went on on to where dwell Alan of Bretagne
and Étienne of Blois and Godefroi of Bouillon and Raymond of Toulouse.
To each I led the girl who has no seeing, and she was glad to know them all.
They are grand trees. As we went our way, we did listen unto the voices.
And I took all the hairpins that was in her hair out of it. I so did so the wind
could blow it back and whisper things into her ears. The wind does have so

much to tell of far lands and of little folks that dwell near unto us in the
fields and in the woods.
To-day near eventime I did lead the girl who has no seeing a little way
away into the forest, where it was darkness, and shadows were. I led her
toward a shadow that was coming our way. It did touch her cheeks with its
velvety fingers. And now she too does have likings for shadows. And her
fear that was is gone. And after that we turned about to the way that does
lead out of the forest. And so we went and I led her again home. We did
hurry a bit. We so did because it was most time for her folks to be there.
Often she does say I must n’t be thereabout when her folks are thereabout. I
don’t be.
At the steps of the door that does go into her house she did tell me good-
bye. When she so did, she kissed me on each cheek like she always does.
Then I did turn my face to the way that leads to the house we live in. Cloud-
ships were sailing over the hills. They were in a hurry. The wind was in a
hurry. Brown leaves, little ones and big ones, were hurrying along. I
thought I had better get a hurry on me. I did.
When I was come near unto the barn, I did go in to get Plato and Pliny. I
put them in my apron pockets. The barn was rather dark. There were
friendly shadows in its corners. When I came out I thought of Peter Paul
Rubens. I did have thinks cathedral service would be good for his soul. I
went again into the barn to get his little bell that he does always wear
around his neck to service, and I did put it on. There was a time when there
was no little bell for Peter Paul Rubens to wear to service. That was in the
days before one day when I did say to the man that wears gray neckties and
is kind to mice, “I do have needs of a little bell for Peter Paul Rubens to
wear to church.” I got it. And Peter Paul Rubens always knows he is going
to the cathedral when I put that little bell around his neck. It does make
lovely silver tinkles as he goes walking down the aisle to the altar.

To-night so we did go, and too with us was Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
When we were come near unto the hospital, I went aside for Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. In the cathedral the wind and the trees sang a
vesper song. And I prayed for quite a time long little prayers and long
prayers for the goodness of us all. Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen at in-
between times.
Now I hear the mamma say, “I wonder where Opal is.” She has forgets.
I’m still under the bed where she did put me quite a time ago. And all this
nice long time light is come to here from the lamp on the kitchen table—
light enough so I can print prints. I am happy. I think I better crawl out now
and go into the bed for sleeps.

CHAPTER IX

Of an Exploring Trip with Brave Horatius; and how Opal Kept Sadness
away from her Animal Friends.

Near eventime to-day I did go out the house when the works were done.
I went out the front door and a little way down the path. I made a stop to
watch the clouds. They first did come over the hills in a slow way. Then
they did sail on and on. They were like ships. I did have wonders what
thoughts they were carrying from the hills to somewhere. While I did
watch, Brave Horatius did come and stand by my side. He looked up at me.
In his eyes were askings. I made explainings. I told him, “Le ciel est plein
de nuages, qui ont l’air de navires.”
While I did talk with him, the mamma did call. I went in. Brave Horatius
followed after. She made him go out the other door. I went too. I went to get
the potatoes the mamma wanted for supper. I got them out of a sack in the
wood-shed. When she did make prepares to peel the potatoes, the mamma
reached away back in the cook-table drawer for the paring knife. When she
did reach so far back, she did feel the track of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Then she pulled it out real quick. She threw it out the window. When I went
to pick it up, it was broken into eleven pieces. I did gather up all the pieces.
They got a little bit wet from tears that trickled down my nose. When I did
get the pieces together, I did put them in the back part of the machine
drawer.
While I so did, I heard a grunt by the bedroom window. I climbed out.
There was Peter Paul Rubens, and near unto him was Brave Horatius. To

each I gave four pats on the nose. They have likes for pats on the nose.
Then I went adown the path. They walked beside me. I saw the cloud-ships
sailing on. I made a stop to tell Peter Paul Rubens what I did tell Brave
Horatius. I did n’t get it all told. When I did say, “Le ciel est plein de
nuages,” Peter Paul Rubens did grunt a grunt to go on. That was his own
dear way of telling me he already did have knowings those clouds looked
like ships. I gave him a pat and one to Brave Horatius too.
I went on. They walked beside me. I went on a little way. Then I did go
aside from the path. I so went to the altar of Saint Louis. Three logs and
four stumps and three trees it is distant from the path. And I took there with
me all the little plants with green leaves—the ones I did dig up yesterday. I
brought them to plant them in a crown there on his altar, for this day is the
day of his crowning in 1226. While I did plant them, the wind did sing a
memory song. And the trees were talking. I have thinks they were saying of
the goodness of Saint Louis. Peter Paul Rubens, he did have understanding
of what they were saying. He did grunt Amen at in-between times.

To-day in the morning, when the mamma was in the other room, I did
take down from its hook the papa’s big coat. I did put it onto me and it did
trail away out behind. I like to wear the papa’s big coat. Jenny Strong, who
comes to visit us, says the reason I like to wear the papa’s big coat is
because it makes me more grown-up. She’s wrong. The reason I like to
wear the papa’s big coat is because it has pockets in it—big ones—nice
ones to put toads and mice and caterpillars and beetles in. That’s why I like
to wear the papa’s coat. Why, when I go walking in the papa’s big coat,
nearly the whole nursery can go along. This morning, just as I was making a
start out the door to the nursery, the mamma came into the kitchen. She did
hurry to the door and I did hurry out. But she caught me by the end of the
coat. She did get that coat off of me in a quick way. She hung it back on its

nail. When it was hung on its nail in the proper way, she gave to me a
shoulder-shake. And I did go to feed the chickens.
After I did feed the chickens all, and have some conversations with them,
I went in to get the lard-pail that does have my school lunch in it. While I
was putting my jacket on, the mamma did tie a new piece of asfiditee
around my neck to keep me from having disease. It was a big piece of
asfiditee. It did n’t stay a big piece very long. I divided it with my animal
friends. Now each one of us has a bit of asfiditee tied around our necks, so
we will not catch sickness. I do so like to share things. I could not find
Brave Horatius to give him his share. I did have it already to tie around his
dear neck, but he did not answer when I did call. I called in the woods and I
called in the field. When he did not come, I went a little way back in the
woods to a root. I hid his piece of asfiditee there. To-morrow morning I will
tie it around his neck.
Near the root was a little wren. I made a stop to watch him. He was in a
hurry. I thought he would tip over. I went in a hurry to help him. Before I
was come to the root he was gone. And I saw his short tail no more.
When I got to school, teacher was standing there in the door. She was
looking far-off looks in the way that does lead to the river. I thought maybe
she was having dream-thoughts. I was just going to walk past her, when she
turned me about for inspection. She felt the outside of my left apron pocket,
but I did n’t bring my pet toad again to school this morning. I am not going
to risk his life again. Next time I am going to bring him to school in a
pocket in my underskirt.
Most all day in school to-day I did study from the books Angel Mother
and Angel Father did make for me. I did screwtineyes the spell of words.
When school was let out, I went in the way that does lead to a grove where
many chêne trees do dwell. I so went to get brown leaves. After I did have a

goodly number of leaves, I did face about in the way that does lead to the
willow creek.
When I was come to the log that goes across the creek I went halfway
across. I went not all way across because this is the going-away-day of
Henry I in 1135, and I did pause to scatter leaves upon the waters. I let them
fall one by one. And they were sixty-seven, for his years were sixty-seven.
Then I went to bugle in the canyon. I did go by the pig-pen. I went that
way to get Peter Paul Rubens. He does so like to go for walks in that
canyon of the far woods when I go to bugle there. And I do so like to have
him go. I have thinks the trees and the ferns and the singing brook all have
gladness when Peter Paul Rubens comes a while to walk in the woods. He
does carry so much joy with him everywhere he goes.
To-day near eventime we did walk our way back unto near the cathedral.
We made a stop there for a short prayer service. First I said Our Father, and
then I said two short prayers; one was a thank prayer, and one was a glad
prayer. As always, Peter Paul Rubens did grunt Amen at in-between times.
Then he did go his way to the pig-pen to get his supper. And I went aside to
see if there was any sheeps on the hillside. I saw not one. And so I come
again to the field. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was at the pasture-bars. There
was lonesome feels in her mooings. I went and put my arm around her
neck. It is such a comfort to have a friend near when lonesome feels do
come.

CHAPTER X

How Brave Horatius is Lost and Found again, but Peter Paul Rubens is
Lost Forever.

I have wonders where is Brave Horatius. He comes not at my calling.
Two days he is now gone. For him I go on searches. I go the three roads that
go the three ways from where they have meeting in front of the ranch
house. On and on I go. To the Orne and Rille I go. I go adown their ways. I
call and call. Into the woods beyond the rivière—into the forêt de Saint-
Germain-en-Laye I go. I listen. The sounds that were in time of summer are
not now. Brave Horatius is not there. I call and call. Then I come back
again. I go to the house of the girl who has no seeing. I go on. I go across
the fields of Auvergne and Picardie. But I have no seeing of my Brave
Horatius.
I come back again. The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice
—he does keep watch by the mill. But these two days he has had no seeing
of Brave Horatius. I have wonders where can he be. Every time I see the
chore boy he does sing, “There was a little dog and his name was Rover,
and when he died, he died all over—and—when—he—died—he—died—
all—over.” The last part he does wail in a most long way. I have not
listenings to what that chore boys says. I go on. I pray on. I look and I look
for Brave Horatius. I go four straight ways and I come back four different
ways. When I am come I go back and forth by Jardin des Tuileries and
across Pont Royal and adown the singing creek where the willows grow.

Lonesome feels are everywhere. I call and I do call. And I do go on and on
to where Rhone flows around Camargue.
I turn about and I go in the way that does go to the forêt de
Montmorency. I go to the forêt de Montmorency. No tree here is a
chataignier. But anyway I do call it forêt de Montmorency, and often it is I
come here; here I come with Brave Horatius. I went in through and out
through, but no answerings did come when I did call. I wonder where he is.
In the morning of to-day, when I did go that way, I did meet with the father
of Lola. And I did ask if he had seen my Brave Horatius. He did have no
seeing of him, and he did ask where all I was going on searches. I did tell
him to Orne and Yonne and Rille and to Camargue and Picardie and
Auvergne and to the forêt de Montmorency. And when I did so tell him, he
did laugh. Most all the folks do laugh at the names I do call places
hereabout. They most all do laugh ’cepting Sadie McKibben. She smiles
and smoothes out my curls and says, “Name ’em what ye are a mind to,
dearie.” Sadie McKibben has an understanding soul. She keeps watch out of
her window for seeings of Brave Horatius, and she has promised me she
will ask everybody that she does see go by her house if they have had
seeings of Brave Horatius.
All my friends do feel lonesome feels for Brave Horatius. Lars Porsena
of Clusium hardly has knowing what to do. And Peter Paul Rubens did have
goings with me three times on searches. And when I did have stops to pray,
he did grunt Amen. And he would like to have goings with me on the
afternoon of to-day. But the pig-pen fence—it was fixed most tight; and I
could n’t unfix it with the hammer, so he might have goings with me. I did
start on. He did grunt grunts to go. I did feel more sad feels. I do so like to
have him go with me on explores and searches. To-day I did go on, and then
I did come back to give him more good-bye pats on the nose until I was
come again. So I did four times. I did tell him when Brave Horatius was
found we would soon come to his pen.

Then I went on. On I went not far, for the mamma did call me to come
tend the baby. And I came again to the house we live in. When sleeps was
upon the baby, I lay me down to sleep, for tired feels was upon me. Now I
feel not so. I have been making prints. The mamma is gone with the baby to
the house of Elsie. I go now again to seek for my Brave Horatius.
A little way I went. A long way I went. When I was come part way back
again, I climbed upon the old gray fence made of rails. I walked adown it to
the gate-post and there I sat. I sat there until I saw the shepherd bringing
down the sheep from the blue hills. When he was come in sight, I went up
the road to meet him and all the sheeps. And when I was come near unto
them, I did have seeing there by the shepherd’s side did abide my Brave
Horatius. I was happy. I was full of glad feels. Brave Horatius showed his
glad feels in his tail—and he did look fond looks at the flock of sheep. I so
did, too. And in the flock there was Bede of Jarrow and Alfric of
Canterbury and Albéric de Briançon and Felix of Croyland. And there was
Cynewulf and Alcuin and Orderic and Gwian and Elidor. And in the midst
of the flock there was Guy de Cavaillon and Raoul de Houdenc and Edwin
of Diera and Adamnan of Iona. I did give to each and every one a word of
greeting as I did walk among the flock. And there were others that I had not
yet given names to. And last of them all—last of all the flock was Dallan
Forgaill.
And when we were come a little way, the shepherd did ask me again
what were the names I did call his sheep, and I told him all over again. And
he did say them after me. But the ways he did say them were not just the
ways I say them—some of them. And he did ask me where I did have
gettings of those names. And I did tell him I did have gettings of those
names from my two books that Angel Mother and Angel Father did write in.

AT THE PASTURE-BARS

We went on. Pretty soon I did tell him as how it was while he was gone
away to the blue hills I did choose for him another name. I told him how
sometimes I did call him by that other name. He did have wantings to know
what the other name was. I did tell him this new name I have for him is
Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne. He liked it. I told him I did too. We
went on. We did have talks. When we were come near unto the lane I did
say, “Good-bye, Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne. I am glad you and
the flock are come.” He gave my curls a smooth back and he said, “Good-
bye, little one.”
Then Brave Horatius and I went in a hurry in the way that does go to the
pig-pen. When we were gone part ways I looked a look back, and in the
road there I saw Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne still watching us.
Then we went on. And we were full of gladness when we did reach the pig-
pen, for Brave Horatius and Peter Paul Rubens and I—we are friends. I did
say a long thank prayer for that we were together again. And Peter Paul
Rubens did grunt Amen.

I am feeling all queer inside. Yesterday was butchering day. Among the
hogs they butchered was Peter Paul Rubens. The mamma let me go off to
the woods all day, after my morning’s work was done. Brave Horatius and
Lars Porsena of Clusium went with me—a part of the time he perched on
my shoulder, and then he would ride on the back of Brave Horatius. Felix
Mendelssohn rode in my apron pocket and Elizabeth Barrett Browning
followed after.
We had not gone far when we heard an awful squeal—so different from
the way pigs squeal when they want their supper. I felt cold all over. Then I
did have knowings why the mamma had let me start away to the woods
without scolding. And I ran a quick run to save my dear Peter Paul Rubens;
but already he was dying—and he died with his head in my lap. I sat there
feeling dead, too, until my knees were all wet with blood from the throat of
my dear Peter Paul Rubens. After I changed my clothes and put the bloody
ones in the rain-barrel, I did go to the woods to look for the soul of Peter
Paul Rubens. I did n’t find it, but I think when comes the spring I will find
it among the flowers—probably in the blossom of a faon lily or in the top of
a fir tree. To-day, when Brave Horatius and I went through the woods, we
did feel its presence near. When I was come back from the woods, they
made me grind sausage, and every time I did turn the handle I could hear
that little pain squeal Peter Paul Rubens always gave when he did want me
to come where he was at once.

CHAPTER XI

How Opal Took the Miller’s Brand out of the Flour-Sack, and Got Many
Sore Feels thereby; and how Sparks Come on Cold Nights; and how
William Shakespeare Has Likings for Poems.

This day, when I was come home from school, I did have much wood to
carry in, for cold days are come. I did make goes to the wood-shed to get
the wood. Going to the wood-shed I passed that new flour-sack hanging on
the clothes-line. It was flapping in the wind. By and by that flour-sack is
going to evolute into an underskirt for me to wear under my dress when I go
to school. I got my arms full of wood—as much as they could hold. Then I
came into the house to put the wood into the box behind the stove.
The mamma was standing by the window. She looked worry looks at that
new flour-sack hanging on the clothes-line there. She said she wished she
knew a quicker way to get that miller’s brand out of the flour-sack. She put
on her fascinator and went a-visiting. She told me to watch the baby that
was sleeping on the bed. While I was carrying in more sticks of wood, I
tried to think of a quicker way to get that miller’s brand out of that flour-
sack a-flapping there in the window.
When enough wood was in and two more loads besides, I did sit on the
wood-box. After I did sit still a most long time, thinks did come of a way. I
got the scissors out. I got them out of the mamma’s work-basket. The time it
did take to cut the miller’s brand out of the flour-sack, it was only a little
time. And when it was fixed, I did fold it in nice folds with the nice crooks
sticking out. The scissors did make those crooks in a nice way. Scissors are

useful. I do find much use for them. But the mamma likes not the uses I
find for the scissors. She does say I am a new sance. I guess a new sance is
something some grown-up people don’t like to have around at all.
I have wonders about things. I have sore feels in my heart and sore feels
on the back part of me. I so want to be helps to the mamma. But it’s very
hard. Why, to-day when I did run to meet her, I did say, “It’s out.—It’s out.
—I’ve got it out.” And she looked no glad looks. She did only look looks
about for a hazel bush. First one she saw, she did take two limbs of it. All
the way to the door she made tingles on me with them. I do not think she
does have knowing how they feel—such queer sore feels. I feel she would
not like their feels.
When we were come to the door, she did tell me to stay outside. She said
I could n’t come into her house. But I did have knowing where I could go. I
went to talk with Good King Edward I and lovely Eleanor of Castile. I did
climb onto the lane fence and into the arms of lovely Queen Eleanor. I do so
like to be in her arms when things do trouble me. She has understandings.
From her arms I did go to hunt for the soul of Peter Paul Rubens. Lucian
Horace Ovid Virgil rode in my left apron pocket and Nannerl Mozart rode
in my right apron pocket. She is a most shy mouse and does keep her nose
hid. As we did go along, I did gather gray leaves. Forty-two gray leaves I
did so gather.
Then we went on. We went on to the near woods. I had not findings to-
day for the soul of my dear Peter Paul Rubens, but I did tell the wind that
was walking in the woods to tell Peter Paul Rubens I was come a-seeking
for his soul. Then I did turn my face to the way that does lead to the
cathedral. On the way I met with Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Brave
Horatius and Isaiah. Together we did go to the cathedral. We went unto the
little tree that I have planted there for rememberings of good John Milton,
for this day is the day of his borning in 1608. We did have prayers. It was so
lonesome—Peter Paul Rubens not being there to grunt Amen at in-between

times. Brave Horatius came near unto me when prayers were most done. He
did put his nose against my hand for a pat. I gave him two. One was for him
and one was for Peter Paul Rubens that was.
Then we all did go in the way that does lead to the singing creek where
the willows grow. When we were come, all that were with me did stand
very close by. They so did stand while I did drop the gray leaves upon the
water. All the forty-two leaves I did gather I did drop upon the water, for
this is the day of the going-away of Antoine Van Dyck in 1641. And his
years they were forty-two. When the leaves were all upon the water I did
say a little prayer, and we came home. It was most dark-time and the lamp
on the kitchen table did shine its light out the window. And it came down
the path to meet us.

There were pictures on the window-panes when I woke up this morning.
By-and-by the fire in the stove made the room warm, and the pictures on
the window-panes went away. I was sorry when they went away. I so did
like to look looks at them.
When I did have my breakfast, the mamma did send me to take a bucket
of something with eggs on top it to the ranch-house. The outdoors did have
coldness. It did make my fingers to have queer feels. And my nose felt like I
did n’t have any. Brave Horatius followed after me as I did go along. As I
did go along, I did see ice on the mud-puddles. Every now and then I did
stop to break the ice on the mud-puddles. I broke the ice to see what was in
the water. Under the ice that was over the cow-tracks there was no water—
only dirt, cold and stiff, with little crystals on it.
When I was come to the ranch-house, the grandma did come to the door,
and she took the bucket of something with eggs on top it, that the mamma
did send to her. I started on to school. I did go as far as the pump. I made a
stop there. I was going to give its handle some lift-ups and some pull-

downs, so water would come out. I have likes to see water come out of that
pump. But to-day water won’t come out of the pump. The pump-handle
won’t go up and down. The grandpa said it froze in the night. I think it has
got the croup. I expect it needs some coal-oil. I have thinks I must tend to
that pump to-night.
All day here at school I now do study. For little bits of times I do study
my school-book. But most of the time I do study the books Angel Father
and Angel Mother did write in. I do study these most every day at school. I
do study the spell of the words. And after times and before times I do sing
the spelling of the words to the gentle Jersey cow while I do ride her to
pasture. And I sit in the manger at evening-time and sing the spellings of
these words to William Shakespeare when he is come home from work in
the woods. I have thinks most of my animal friends do have knowings of
the spellings of these words. It so often is I do sing the spellings of these
words to them.
When I did come home from school to-night, I did make a stop at that
pump to see how much coal-oil it did need for its croup. But it had no needs
to be tended. The croup that it did have on this morning was all gone. When
I did give its handle some lift-ups and some push-downs, water did come
out. I watched it. It stopped coming out when I did stop giving it lift-ups
and push-downs. I went on. I saw the black cat by the barn. On cold nights I
have given that cat long rubs on its back, and sparks have come. I did have
thinks about sparky things as I did come on home. Now I have knowings of
these. Cats are sparky—black ones on a cold night. Stoves are sparky on
cold days. Rocks are sparky—flint ones when you give them a thump. The
chore boy says some people are sparky. He does n’t know what he is talking
about.
When I was come into the house we live in, I gave the baby a gentle
thump. It squawked, but there were no sparks. Then the mamma came in the
back door. She had not knows why it squawked, but she did tell me to mind

it. I so did. The mamma went out again to the house of Elsie. When she was
gone, I did sing to the baby a new song I did make up to-day. Most every
day I do make up a song. I sing them not when the mamma is in the house,
for she does give me most hard spankings when I do start to sing them. To-
day I did teeter the baby on the bed as she said. And more I did. I did sing to
her the new song. I did sing to her,—

“Maintenant est hiver,
Le ciel est gris,
Le champ est tranquille,
Les fleurs dorment,
Maintenant est hiver.”

Then she did kick many kicks in the air. I did tickle her toes. She likes to
have her toes tickled. She has likes for it. This baby has likes for many
things. She has likes to sit up on the bed. The mamma has me to prop it up
so it won’t fall over. And this baby—it has likes to make bubbles with its
mouth and to stick its foot in its mouth. It does like to rattle all the rattles
the grandma and Jenny Strong and Elsie bring to it. It does have such likes
to be rocked. And most of the times when it is awake, it does want to be
singed to and carried about. It is a baby that has satisfaction looks on its
face for a little time when it gets what it wants. It only has those satisfaction
looks a little time. Soon it does have some more wants, and it wants to have
what it wants. The mamma does have me to rock it and rock it and teeter it
on the bed and walk the floor with it. Sometimes it does get most heavy.
Then I do let my knees bend under and I do sit on the floor and rock it back
and forth. The mamma, she does have much likes for it to have what it
wants.

I am joy all over. I have found in the near woods a plant that has berries
like the berries symphorine has. And its leaves are like the leaves
symphorine has. I have had seeings of it before, and every time I do meet

with this new old plant, I do say, “I have happy feels to see you,
Symphorine.” And when the wind comes walking in the near woods, the
little leaves of symphorine do whisper little whispers. I have thinks they are
telling me they were come here before I was come here. I make a stop to
have more listens. They do whisper, “See, petite Françoise, we were a long
time come.” I can see they were, too, because their toes have grown quite a
ways down in the ground.
To-day, as I did walk a walk to where they grow, I did tell them about the
day that it is. I told them all about this being the borning day of Jeanne
d’Albret, mère de Henri IV, in 1528. I told the year-numbers on my fingers.
I had thinks they might have remembers better if I so told them on my
fingers. I do have remembers of numbers better when I do tell them on my
fingers. Brave Horatius did stand by and listen while I so told them. We
went on.
I tied bits of bread on the tips of the branches of the trees. Too, I tied on
popcorn kernels. They looked like snow-flowers blooming there on fir trees.
I looked looks back at them. I have knows the birds will be glad for them.
Often I do bring them here for them. When I do have hungry feels I feel the
hungry feels the birds must be having. So I do have comes to tie things on
the trees for them. Some have likes for different things. Little gray one of
the black cap has likes for suet. And other folks has likes for other things.
There is a little box in the woods that I do keep things for the pheasants
and grouses and squirrels and more little birds and wood-mouses and wood-
rats. In fall-time days Peter Paul Rubens did come here with me when I did
bring seeds and nuts to this box for days of hiver. When we were come to
the box, I did have more thinks of him. I think the soul of Peter Paul
Rubens is not afar. I think it is in the forest. I go looking for it. I climb up in
the trees. I call and call. And then when I find it not, I do print a message on
a leaf, and I tie it onto the highest limb I can reach. And I leave it there with
a little prayer for Peter Paul Rubens. I do miss him so.

To-day, after I so did leave a message on a leaf away up in a tree for him,
I did have going in along the lane and out across the field and down the
road beyond the meeting of the roads. There was grayness everywhere—
gray clouds in the sky and gray shadows above and in the canyon. And all
the voices that did speak—they were gray tones. “Petite Françoise, c’est
jour gris.” And all the little lichens I did see along the way did seem a very
part of all the grayness. And Felix Mendelssohn in my apron pocket—he
was a part of the grayness, too. And as I did go adown the road, I did meet
with a gray horse—and his grayness was like the grayness of William
Shakespeare. Then I did turn about. I did turn my face to the near woods
where is William Shakespeare.
When Rob Ryder is n’t looking, I give to William Shakespeare pieces of
apple and I pull grass for him. He so likes a nice bit to eat after he does pull
a long pull on the logs. And while I do feed him bits of apple and bits of
grass, I do tell him poems. William Shakespeare has likes for poems. And
sometimes I do walk along by him when he is pulling in logs and I do tell
the poems to him while he pulls. And I give his head rubs when he is tired,
and his back too. And on some Sundays when he is in the pasture I go there
to talk with him. He comes to meet me. William Shakespeare and I—we are
friends. His soul is very beautiful. The man that wears gray neckties and is
kind to mice says he is a dear old horse.

CHAPTER XII

Of Elsie’s Brand-New Baby, and all the Things that Go with it; and the
Goodly Wisdom of the Angels who Bring Folks Babies that Are like them.

Elsie has a brand-new baby and all the things that go with it. There’s a
pink fleur on its baby brush and a pink bow on its cradle-quilt. The angels
brought the baby just last night in the night. I have been to see it a goodly
number of times—most everything I did start to do, I went aside before I
did get through doing it to take peeps at the darling baby. I so did when I
was sent to feed the chickens, and when I went to carry in the wood, and
when I went to visit Aphrodite, and when I went to take eggs to the folks
that live yonder, and when I went to get some soap at the ranch-house, and
when I went to take a sugar-lump to William Shakespeare, and when I went
to take food to the folks in the hospital, and when I went to the ranch-house
to get the milk. And in the between times I did go in the way that does lead
to the house of Elsie.
The baby—it is a beautiful baby—though it does have much redness of
face from coming such a long way in the cold last night. Maybe it was the
coldness of the night that did cause the angels to make the mistake. They
stopped at the wrong house. I’m quite sure this is the very baby I have been
praying for the angels to bring to the new young folks that do live by the
mill by the far woods. Dear Love, her young husband does call her. And
they are so happy. But they have been married seven whole months and
have n’t got a baby yet. Twice every day for a time long I have been praying
prayers for the angels to bring them one real soon. And most all day to-day

I did feel I better tell Elsie as how this baby is n’t her baby, before she does
get too fond of it. She so likes to cuddle it now. Both morning and afternoon
I did put off going to tell her about it. I did wait most until eventime. Then I
could n’t keep still any longer. I felt I would just have to speak to her about
it at once.
I did have knowings that Mrs. Limberger, that was staying with Elsie
until the other woman was come back, would n’t let me come in the door to
see the baby again because she has opinions that nineteen times is fully
enough to be a-coming to see a baby on the first day of its life on earth. So I
went and got a wood-box off the back porch, and I did go around to the
bedroom window. I did get on top the wood-box and I made tappings on the
window-pane. Elsie did have hearings. She did turn her head on the pillow.
And she gave nods for me to come in. I pushed the window a push enough
so I could squeeze in. Then I sidled over to the bed.
Elsie did look so happy with the baby. I did swallow a lump in my throat.
She looked kind smiles at me. I did not like to bring disturbs to her calm. I
just stood there making pleats in my blue calico apron. I did have thinks of
Dear Love and the house without a baby by the mill by the far woods. Then
I felt I could n’t wait any longer. I just said, “I know you are going to have a
disappoint, Elsie, but I have got to tell you—this baby is n’t yours. It’s a
mistake. It really belongs to Dear Love in that most new, most little house
by the mill by the far woods. It’s the one I’ve been praying the Angels to
bring to her.”
Just when I was all out of breath from telling her, there did come the
heavy step of Mrs. Limberger’s approaches. Elsie did say in a gentle way,
“Come to me early in the morning and we will talk the matter over.” Then I
did go out the window.
From the house of Elsie I did go to talk with Michael Angelo Sanzio
Raphael. He does so understand. All troubles that do trouble me, I do talk

them over with him. While I was telling him all about how the angels did
make a mistake and did bring Dear Love’s baby to the house of Elsie, I did
hear a little voice. It was a baby voice. It did come from the barn. I went in
to see. It was n’t in the haystack. It seemed to come from a way below. I
slid down to the manger of the gentle Jersey cow. I thought she was in the
pasture, but there she was in the barn. And with her was a dear new baby
calf. When I did ask the ranch folks when it was brought, they did say it
was brought in the night last night. I have thinks the same angel that did
bring the new baby to the house of Elsie did bring also in her other arm that
baby calf to the gentle Jersey cow. To-night I will pick it out a name from
the books Angel Mother and Angel Father did write in. Early in the morning
I will go again to the house of Elsie.

Early on the morning of to-day I did go in the way that does lead to the
house of Elsie. I did rap gentle raps on the door, and the young husband of
Elsie did come to raise the latch. When the door did come open, I did have
seeing that his black pumpadoor did seem to shine more than most times,
and all the vaseline was gone from the jar that sets on the kitchen shelf. I
did tell him how Elsie did say for me to come early in this morning. And
before he did have time for answers, Elsie did have hearing in the other
room. She did call. She did call me to come in.
In I went. The baby it was beside her. It was all wrapped in a blanket so it
could n’t even have seeings out the window how the raindrops was coming
down so fast. The young husband of Elsie did look fond looks at that
blanket. I did begin to have fears he did have thinks it was his baby. Elsie
did unwrap the blanket from its red face. It’s just as red as it was yesterday,
though the rain coming makes the weather more warm. Elsie did say, “See
its long hair.” And I did have seeing. It was n’t long though, not more than
an inch. It was most black. And its eyes—they were dark. It did have
prefers to keep them shut. When I did see them, Elsie did say, “Now about

what we were talking about yesterday—next time you go to the house of
Dear Love, have seeing of the color of her eyes and hair and also of her
husband’s. I hardly think this baby’s hair and eyes are like theirs. And
maybe it is where it does belong.” “I feel sure about that,” said her young
husband. But I had not feels so.
Just then the mamma did holler for me to come home to bring wood in. I
so come. Now she does have me mind the baby. I do print.
When sleeps was come upon the mamma’s baby, I straightway did go in
a hurry to the house of Dear Love by the mill by the far woods. All the way
along the raindrops were coming in a hurry down. Many of them did say,
“Petite Françoise too. I wonder, I wonder.” When I was come to the house
of Dear Love, she was there and he was there. Her eyes were light blue, and
her hair, it was very light. Most cream hair she has got. And her husband
that does call her Dear Love—his eyes they are blue, and he has red hair. I
saw. And I was going right back because I did feel sad feels. Dear Love, she
did lead me back into her house and did have me to sit on a chair. I sat on
its corner. And I felt lumps come up in my throat. She did take off my
fascinator, and she did take off my shoes so my feet would get dry.
Then she did take me on her lap and she did ask me what was the matter.
And I just did tell her all about it—all about how I had been praying for the
angels to bring a baby real soon to them—and how sad feels I did feel
because they did n’t have a baby yet. Her husband did smile a quiet smile at
her, and roses did come on her cheeks. And I did have thinks that they did
have thinks that this baby the angels did bring to the house of Elsie was
their baby. Then I did give them careful explanations as how I too did have
thinks it was their baby the angels did bring to the house of Elsie, that I did
pray for them to have real soon. And as how I did have thinks so yesterday
and last night and right up until now, when I did come to their house and
have seeings of their blue eyes and his having red hair. I did tell them as

how this baby could n’t be theirs, because it has most dark hair and dark
eyes—like the eyes and the hair of the young husband of Elsie.
Angels do have a big amount of goodly wisdom. They do bring to folks
babies that are like them. To mother sheeps they do bring lambs. To mother
horse they do bring a poulain. To mother bats they bring twin bats. To a
mother mouse they do bring a baby mulot and some more like it—all at the
same time. To mère daine they do bring a baby faon. To the gentle Jersey
cow they did bring a baby calf, with creamness and brownness upon it like
the creamness and brownness that is upon the gentle Jersey cow. Angels do
have a goodly amount of wisdom. They do bring to folks babies that do
match them. And after I did tell them that, I did have telling them as how,
being as this baby did n’t have eyes and hair to match theirs, it could n’t be
their baby. But I did tell them not to have disappoints too bad, because I am
going to pray on—and maybe she will get a baby next week.
When I did say that, her young husband did walk over to the window and
look long looks out. I have thinks he was having wonders if two or three
angels would be coming with the angel that will be bringing their baby, and
if the cradle-quilt they bring with it will have a blue bow or a pink bow on it
and if its baby brush will have blue fleurs or pink fleurs on it. I have
wonders. I think blue fleurs on its baby brush and a blue bow on its cradle-
quilt will look nicer with red hair than pink fleurs and a pink bow. I have
thinks I better put that in my prayers.
By-and-by, when my feets were dry, they did put my shoes on and they
laced them up. They did n’t miss a string-hole like I do sometimes when I
am in a hurry to get them tied up. Then, when they did have them tied up,
they did want me to stay to dinner; but I did have feels I must hurry back to
the house of Elsie and tell her that the baby was hers. She might be having
anxious feels about it. When I did say good-bye they did give me two
apples—one for William Shakespeare and one for Elizabeth Barrett
Browning. And they did give me some cheese for Thomas Chatterton

Jupiter Zeus and corn for Lars Porsena of Clusium. And they came a long
way with me.
Then I did go on in hurry steps to the house of Elsie. As quick as her
young husband did open the door, I did walk right in, for I did have thinks
maybe she did have some very anxious feels while I was gone. She smiled
glad smiles when I told her it was hers. It must have been an immense
amount of relief—her now knowing it really was her own baby. And when I
did turn around to tell her young husband it was theirs, her young husband,
he just said, “I knew it was mine.” And he looked more fond looks at the
blanket it was wrapped in. I have feels now it is nice for them to have it;
and it is good that they will not have needs to give it up—being as it
matches them. Angels do have a goodly amount of wisdom. This is a
wonderful world to live in.
When I did say good-bye to Elsie and the charmante baby, I did go to the
barn where is the gentle Jersey cow and the baby calf that does match her.
That baby calf I have named Mathilde Plantagenet. I have named her so for
Mathilde that was daughter of Roi Henri I and Mathilde that was daughter
of Sainte Marguerite that was reine d’Écosse. Mathilde Plantagenet is her
name because the name of the man Mathilde did marry, it was Geoffroi
Plantagenet. And too in days of summer the gênet fleur grows near unto
here. I have had seeings of them by waters that flow by the mill town. And
when their bloom time is come, I will make for Mathilde Plantagenet a
guirlande of les fleurs de gênet. And we will go walking down the lane.

CHAPTER XIII

How Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil Go for a Ride;
William Shakespeare Suffers One Whipping and Opal Another.

On the way home from school to-night I did meet with Sadie McKibben,
and it was very nice to see her freckles. And she wore her blue gingham
apron with cross stitches on it. First when we were met she did kiss me on
each cheek. Then she was going to shake hands with me, but I could not
shake hands with her with my right hand because Louis II, le Grand Condé,
was asleep in my sleeve. I had fears shaking hands with my right hand
would disturb his calm. So I gave explanations. And Sadie McKibben did
have understanding. She gave me a kiss on my nose and smoothed back my
curls and shook hands with my left hand.
When she so did, Felix Mendelssohn did poke his nose out the cuff. He
made a quick run up my arm and settled down on my shoulder. He is a very
quick-moving mouse. Sadie McKibben did see the movement his moving
did make on my sleeve. She asked me if that was all my friends I did take to
school to-day. Then I lifted up my apron and I did show her Lucian Horace
Ovid Virgil. He was riding in a pocket in my underskirt. She did have
wantings to know why it was that I was not carrying him in my apron
pocket as I use to do. I told her I did not so now, for teacher does feel of my
apron pockets when I do come into school in the morning; so I carry my
friends in my sleeves and in pockets in my underskirt.
Sadie McKibben did have understanding. And she did say she thought
she would have to be getting me a little basket to carry them in. She said

she was going to speak to the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to
mice about the matter. I have thinks to be carried in a warm basket will
please the souls of Louis II, le Grand Condé, and Felix Mendelssohn and
Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and all the little folk that do go walking with me.
It will be almost as nice as to ride in the pockets of the papa’s big coat. I
have thinks I will have needs to put pockets in that basket and divides so
there in it will be little rooms, little rooms for all the folks of the nursery. I
will let them have their turns riding to school in the basket. And there is
enough room in my seat so that basket can set right beside me. I can hardly
wait waits until I do have that basket.
When Sadie McKibben did kiss me good-bye, she gave me a sugar-lump
for William Shakespeare and a piece of cheese for Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus and a bone for Brave Horatius and ten corn-seeds for Lars
Porsena of Clusium. She does have knowings of the likings of my friends.
Then she went her way, and I did come my way home to the house we live
in.
When I was come, first I did feed the chickens. And then I did go to carry
in the wood. It was while I was carrying in wood that Rob Ryder came to
borrow a hammer. I have n’t been near unto where he has been since I did
bite his hand the other day. And to-day the mamma tried to make me say to
that Rob Ryder how sorry I was because I bit him on the hand. But I was n’t
a bit sorry. And I would n’t say I was sorry. And if I got a chance I’d bite
him again for his laying that big whip to the back of William Shakespeare
when he does n’t pull logs fast enough. I know my William Shakespeare
and I know how hard he pulls to pull those logs. To pull those logs he does
his very best.
And when he was gone away the mamma did spank me most hard with
the hair-brush. Then she put me out the door. And I did go from the house
we do live in to where do dwell King Edward III and Queen Philippa of
Hainault. They are grand trees. We are friends. Often it is I go to where they

dwell when the mamma does put me out of the house. To-day I did stay
long with them and I did talk long with them. Mostly it was about the
lovely England when they were there, we did have talks about to-day. And
the wind was talking too. I think the wind does have knowing of this being
their wedding day in 1328. As he did come near unto where they dwell, he
did walk among the willows by the singing creek. And I did climb down
from the arms of Queen Philippa of Hainault and go to gather water-cress
for the mamma. She does have such a fondness for it.
Then I did say good-bye, and I did say good-bye to all those twelve trees
growing near unto them. And all those twelve trees that do grow near unto
King Edward III and Queen Philippa of Hainault—those twelve trees are
their twelve children. The tree most near unto Edward III, that is Edward
Prince of Wales; and the one next unto him is Lionel Duke of Clarence; and
the one most near unto him, that is John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The
time was when there were only ten trees growing there, and I did have
needs to plant two more. Two little ones I did plant, and one is for baby
Blanche and one is for baby William, the other one.

CHAPTER XIV

How Opal Feels Satisfaction Feels, and Takes a Ride on William
Shakespeare; and all that Came of it.

After I did dish-towel all the dishes that we did use in the breakfast
meal, the mamma did send me to get barks for the warming stove. While I
was getting barks I did stop to screwtineyes the plump wiggles that were in
and under all the barks. Those plump wiggles will grow and change. They
will grow and change into beetles. I have seen them do so. I have taken
them from the bark and they did so grow into beetles—after some long
time. In the nursery I kept them while they did so change.
After the barks was in I did go my way to school. I went aside to
Saint Firmin by Nonette. I made a stop where the willows grow. I love to
touch fingers with the willows. Then I do feel the feels the willows feel. I
did tell them all and every one about this being the going-away day of
Charlemagne in 814 and the borning day of Henry VII in 1457. Each pussy-
willow baby did wear a gray silk tricot. He did look warm. He smiled,
“Bonjour, petite Françoise,” in a friendly way. I think he does remember the
days in summer when I did drink in inspirations dabbling my toes by his
toes there in the singing brook.
When I did have talks with them for a little time, I did go on. And all
along I stopped very often on the way to talk to the other pussy-willows. I
was quite late to school. Teacher made me stand in the corner to get my
lesson with my face to the wall. I did n’t mind that at all. There was a
window in that part of the wall. It was near the corner. I looked looks at my

book sometimes. Most of the times I looked looks out the window. I had
seeing of little plant folks just peeping out of the earth to see what they
could see. I did have thinks it would be nice to be one of them, and then
grow up and have a flower and bees a-coming and seed-children at fall-
time. I have thinks this is a very interest world to live in. There is so much
to see out the window when teacher does have one to stand in the corner to
study one’s lesson.
When teacher did send me to my seat to get my slate for arithmetic, I did
put Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil in my desk by my Cyr’s Reader. I keep my
books in one little corner of my desk, and that does leave a lot of room for
my animal friends. There was room enough for Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil
to take little nice hops. But while I was having recites with arithmetic, he
hopped a little hop too far and he fell out of my desk. I had quivers, and it
was hard to pay attentions to arithmetic. When our lessons were done I
made a quick go to my seat. I looked a look under for him. He was not
there. I looked more looks about. He was rows away over by the seat-row
where Lola has her sitting. I did almost sit sideways in my seat, I had such
anxious feels about him.
Lola had seeing. She made a reach over. She picked him up in a gentle
way. She put him in her apron pocket. She made a begin to study her
geography. She asked teacher if she might get a drink from the dipper in the
wrap-room. She went. She made a come-back from the wrap-room down
our row, going to her geography class. When she went by my desk, she put
her hand in my pocket. She went on to the recite bench. Lucian Horace
Ovid Virgil was back again in my apron pocket. I felt an immense amount
of satisfaction feels.

Some days there is cream to be shaked into butter. The mamma does have
me to make a handle go up and down a lot of times in the churn. This makes

the butter come. When there is only a little cream to be shaked into butter,
then the mamma has me to shake it to and fro in a glass jar. Sometimes it
gets awfully heavy and my arms do get ache feels up and down. There are
most ache feels when the butter is a long time in coming. It so was to-day. I
gave it many shakes, and I was having hopes it soon would be come. After
some long time, when it was most come, the lid came off and it all shaked
out. Then the mamma did have cross feels and the spanks she gave made
me to have sore feels on the back part of me. I was making tries to be helps
to her. That butter was almost come.
After I did give the floor washes and mops up where the splashes of
buttermilk did jump, then the mamma put me out the door and told me to
get out and stay out of her way. I so did. I went out across the field and in
along the lane. Lars Porsena of Clusium had going with me. I looked looks
away to the meeting of the roads. There was a horse come near unto it. A
man was riding on this horse. I like to ride upon a horse. I like to stand up
when I ride upon a horse. It is so much joy. I feel the feels the horse does
feel when he puts each foot to the ground.
When I did see that horse go on and on, then I did have feels it would be
nice to go a long way on explores. I did have thinks William Shakespeare
had wants to go. He was in the lane. I gave him pats on the nose and I
talked with him about it. We did start on. When we were come to the end of
the lane there was the gate. It did take some long time to get it open. The
plug did stick so tight and more yet. I did pull and I made more pulls. It
came out. It did come out in a quick way. I did have a quick set-down. I got
up in a slow way. I did show William Shakespeare the way to go out the
gate. He went, I went. We went adown the road. A little way we went and
we were come to a stump. I made a climb upon it. From the stump I did
climb upon the back of William Shakespeare.
We went on. When we were come to the meeting of the roads, we went
the way of the road that goes to the upper camps. We made no stops until

we were come to where a long time ago the road had a longing to go across
the rivière, and some men that had understanding made it a bridge to go
across on. When we were come to the bridge, we made a stop and I did sing
to the rivière a song. I sang it Le chant de Seine, de Havre, et Essonne et
Nonette et Roullon et Iton et Darnetal et Ourcq et Rille et Loing et Eure et
Audelle et Nonette et Sarc. I sang it as Angel Father did teach me to, and as
he has wrote it in the book.
And after I did sing it all, we did watch the water splash itself against the
legs of the bridge. The water goes not now slow as it did in summer days.
We went on. And the boards of the bridge did make squeaks as we went
across. And they said in their squeaks, “Petite Françoise, we have been
waiting a long time for you to go across the rivière.” And I did have
William Shakespeare to make a little stop so I could tell the boards I have
been waiting waits a long time to go across. While I so was doing, they did
not squeak. When we made a start to go on, they did squeak.

“AFTER WE WERE ACROSS THE RIVIÈRE WE WENT IN A MORE SLOW WAY”

After we were across the rivière we went in a more slow way. There was
so many things to see. Trees and trees were all along the way. There were
more ranch-houses. I did have seeing of them set always back from the
road, and smoke did come in curls from out their chimneys. At a bend in the
road there was a big chêne tree—it was a very big one. On its arms there
was bunches of mistletoe. I made a stop to have looks at them. I had thinks
I might reach up to them. I stood on tiptoe on the back of William
Shakespeare. I could reach a reach to one limb. I put my arms around it and
had a swing. It was very nice to swing one forward and two back again.
But when I was ready to stand on William Shakespeare again, he was not
there. I looked a look down and about. He was gone on a little way. I had
wonders what to do. There was most too many rocks to drop down on. Lars
Porsena came and perched on the limb above. I did call William
Shakespeare four times, and in between I called him by the bird-call that
does mean I have needs of him. He did come and he made a stop under the
limb. I was most glad. My arms did have a queer feel from hanging there. I
was real glad just to sit quiet on the back of William Shakespeare while he
did walk on. And Lars Porsena of Clusium did sit behind me.
We went on. We had seeing of the section men working on the railroad
track where the dinky engine goes with the cars of lumbers to the mill town.
They were making stoop-overs. I had seeing they did screwtineyes the rails
and the ties they stay upon. The men did wave their hands to us, and I did
wave back, and on the fence there was a bird with a yellow and a little black
moon across his front. His back—it was like the grasses of the field grown
old. And his song is the song of all the voices of the field. We have seeing
of him and his brothers all days of the year.
After we had going past the next turn in the road I did look a look back.
A little bush with some tallness was yet a-nodding. It was asking a question.
I gave William Shakespeare two pats on the shoulder. That means turn
about. He did. When we were come to the bush a-nodding, I leaned over to

the tallness of it. I put my ear close so I could have hearing. It had wants to
know what day this was. I did tell it this day was the going-away day of
John of Gaunt and the borning day of Felix Mendelssohn in 1809. It had
hearings, but it did not stop nodding. But it was asking no questions. It was
nodding nods of the day this is. I felt the satisfaction feels it did feel when it
did know the answer to its question. I do too have likes to ask questions
about things so to have knows.
We went on in a slow way. I did look looks about. And there were birds
—robins and two bluebirds and more larks of the meadow and other crows
like unto Lars Porsena of Clusium. When we was come to another bend in
the road, William Shakespeare made a stop. I made a slide off. I went to
pick him some grass. A wagon went by. Two horses were in front of it, and
on its high seat was a man with his hat on sideways and a woman with a big
fascinator most hiding her face. There was seven children in the wagon—
two with sleeps upon them and a little girl with a tam-o’-shanter and a
frown and a cape on her. I have thinks from the looks on their faces they all
did have wants to get soon to where they were going to. I brought the grass
back to the road to William Shakespeare. I smiled a smile and waved to the
last little girl of all on the wagon. She smiled and waved her hand. Then
three more of them waved. I waved some more. The wagon had its going
on, and William Shakespeare had begins to nibble at the grass I was holding
in my fingers. While he did nibble nibbles I did tell him poems. William
Shakespeare does have such a fondness for poetry and nibbles of grass and
apples and sugar-lumps.
While we did have waiting at the bend of the road, I saw a maple tree
with begins of buds upon it. I did walk up to the tree. I put my ear to it to
have listens to the sap going up. It is a sound I like to hear. There is so much
of springtime in it. While I did listen, in the other ear that was not to the
maple tree I did have hearings of the talkings of the wind and petite plants
just having begins to grow out of the earth. The wind did say, “Je viens—je

viens.” The plants did answer make, “Nous entendons—nous entendons.”
So they did speak. Then the wind did say, “Le printemps viendra bientôt.”
And the plants did answer make, “Nous fleurirons bientôt.”
I did have glad feels. William Shakespeare moved a little move. I had
some doubts if he did hear all plainly they did say, so I went up to his nose
and said it all over to him. He had understanding. We went on. When we
were come again to a stump, I did climb again upon his back. We went by a
big mill with piles of lumber to its near side, and a long wide roof it had.
There was a row of lumber-shanties and some more. There was children
about and dogs. They did smile and wave and I did too. We went on. More
fir trees of great tallness was on either side the road. They did stretch out
their great arms to welcome to us. I so do love trees. I have thinks I was
once a tree growing in the forest; now all trees are my brothers.
When we were gone a little way on from the very tall trees, in the sky the
light of day was going from blue to silver. And thoughts had coming down
the road to meet us. They were thoughts from out the mountains where are
the mines. They were thoughts from the canyons that come down to meet
the road by the rivière. I did feel their coming close about us. Very near they
were and all about. We went on a little way only. We went very slow. We
had listens to the thoughts. They were thoughts of blooming-time and
coming-time. They were the soul thoughts of little things that soon will
have their borning-time.
When we did go on we did hear little sounds coming from a long way
down the road. They were like the shoe on the foot of a horse making
touches on the road in a hurry way. The sound, it came more near. We made
a stop to have a listen. It was coming more near gray-light-time and we
could not have plain sees until the horse was come more near a way down
the road. Then we had sees a man was riding on the horse. They came on in
the quick way that made the little fast patter sounds on the ground. When he
was most come to where we were, the man did have the horse to go in a

more slow way. When he was come to where we were he did have the horse
to stop. The man upon the horse was the man that wears gray neckties and
is kind to mice. He did seem most glad that we were on the road he was on.
He did breathe some satisfaction breathes just like Sadie McKibben does
when she finds I have n’t broken my bones when I fall out of a tree. Then
he made begins. He said, “The fairies—” And I said, “What?” He said,
“The fairies have left a note on a leaf in the moss-box by the old log. It was
a note for me to go until I find you and William Shakespeare—to bring you
home again before starlight-time.”
There was a little fern-plant with the note on the leaf. He gave them to
me. And we came our way home. Now I have thinks it was God in his
goodness did send the fairies to leave that fern-note on the leaf. And
William Shakespeare and I were glad he was come to meet us, for the stars
were not and dark was before we were come home. But the man that wears
gray neckties and is kind to mice, he did have knows of the way of the road
by night.

CHAPTER XV

Of Jenny Strong’s Visit, its Gladness and its Sadness.

Jenny Strong is come to visit us. She came in the morning of to-day. She
came on the logging train. She brought her bags with her. The mamma did
send me to meet her at the meeting of the roads. The bags, they were heavy
to carry, and my arms got some tired. As we did go along, in-between times
I did look looks at Jenny Strong. There is so much of interest about her. The
gray curls about her face did have the proper look she wants them to have.
To get that proper look she does them up on curl-papers. I have seen her so
do when she was come to visit us before. And this morning her plump
cheeks were roses. And all her plumpness did most fill the gray dresses she
was wearing. Jenny Strong has little ruffles around the neck of that dress,
like the little ruffles that was around the neck of the man with the glove
when Titian made his picture. Those ruffles on the neck of the gray dress of
Jenny Strong did look like it was their joy to cuddle up against the back of
her black bonnet.
That black bonnet has a pink rosebud on it, and every time that Jenny
Strong does give her head a nod, that pink rosebud does give itself a nod. It
must be interest to be a pink rosebud on a black bonnet that Jenny Strong
wears. When we were come to the gate Jenny Strong did hold her cape and
her gray dress up in a careful way. She had blue stockings on, and they was
fastened up with pink ribbons. She went on while I did shut the gate. I did
come after. I could not come after in a quick way because the bags was
heavy. Pretty soon Jenny Strong did have seeing I was not there beside her,

and she did wait waits for me a little while, and I did come to where she
was.
We went on. The way was dampness near the singing creek and Jenny
Strong did take dainty steps as we did go along. Lars Porsena of Clusium
did come to meet us. And so came Brave Horatius. And Lars Porsena of
Clusium did perch upon his back. We went on. The pink rosebud on the
black bonnet of Jenny Strong did nod itself twelve times as we did go
along. When we were come near unto the house, there was a rooster by our
front door. He was strutting along. He was that same rooster that I tied a
slice of bacon around his neck this morning because he had queer actions in
the throat. When Jenny Strong saw him strutting along with the bacon
wrapped around his throat, she did turn her head to the side with a delicate
cough.
After Jenny Strong took off her cape and her black bonnet with the pink
rosebud on it, I did pull the best rocking-chair out in the middle of the room
for her. She sat down in it and she did start to have talks with the mamma. I
did go to teeter the baby on the bed as the mamma did say for me to do.
Jenny Strong did rock big rocks in that rocking-chair while she did talk.
One time she did almost rock over. She breathed a big breath. Then, that she
might not rock over again, I did put a stick of wood under the rocker. That
helped some. But, too, it did keep her from rocking. She went on talking. I
went back to the bed to teeter the baby. While I did teeter the baby I did
look looks out the window. In a bush that I do tie pieces of suet to, there
was a little gray bird with a black cap and his throat it was black. He was a
fluffy ball and he almost did turn himself upside-down on that branch. Then
he went a go-away. Only a little way he went. Then he was with more like
himself. They went on together.
By and by the mamma’s baby did go to sleep, and I climbed off the bed
and made a start to go to the nursery. Jenny Strong did ask me where I was
going. I did tell her. She said she thought she would like to go with me. We

did go out the door. Then I ran a quick run back to get her black bonnet with
the pink rosebud on it. I brought it to her. She said, being as I did bring it to
her, she would wear it, but she had not in tent chuns to when we started.
She had forgot it. But I did n’t have forgets. I do so like to see that pink
rosebud nod itself.
We went on. We went a little way down the path. Then I did go aside.
Jenny Strong did follow after me. She came over the little logs in a slow
way. I did make stops to help her. The pink rosebud on the black bonnet did
nod itself fifteen times on the way. I did count its times. When we were
come to the nursery, first I did show her the many baby seeds I did gather
by the wayside in the falltime. I did tell her how I was going to plant them
when come springtime. She did nod her head. Every time she so did, the
pink rosebud on the black bonnet did nod itself.
After I told her most all about the seeds, I did show her the silk bags with
spider eggs in them. Then I did show her all the cradles the velvety
caterpillars did make at falltime. I did give her explainings how butterflies
and moths would be a-coming out of the cradles when springtime was
come. She looked concentration looks at them. She gave her head some
more nods and the pink rosebud on the black bonnet gave itself some more
nods. I moved on to where the wood-mouse folks are. I was just going to
show her what a nice nose and little hands Nannerl Mozart has, and what a
velvety mouse Felix Mendelssohn is. When I did turn about to so do, there
was Jenny Strong going in funny little hops over the logs. She was going in
a hurry way to the house.
I did have a wonder why was it she so went. I gave Felix Mendelssohn
more pats and I put him in my apron pocket. And Nannerl Mozart did curl
up in the bed I have fixed for her in the nursery. Then I did sing a lullaby
song to all the wood-mice in the nursery. And they are a goodly number. I
did sing to them the song La Nonette sings as it goes on its way to Oise.

Then I did go through the near woods to the mill by the far woods. I so
did go to see the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. When he
had seeing that I was come by the big tree, he did say in his gentle way,
“What is it, little one? Is Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus not well?” “Oh,
yes,” I said, “he is most well and he did have likes for that piece of cheese
you did give to him on yesterday. He is a most lovely wood-rat, and what I
have come to tell you about is, we got company. She has a fondness for
pinkness. Her name is Jenny Strong. And she has a pink rosebud on her
black bonnet and ties her blue stockings up with pink ribbons.”
And then I did ask him if he did not have thinks a pink ribbon would be
nice for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to wear on some days—on days
when he goes to cathedral service with me. And, too, I did tell him how I
did have thinks a pink ribbon would be nice for William Shakespeare and
Felix Mendelssohn and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Brave Horatius.
The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did have thinks like
my thinks. He did say for me to go write the fairies about it. And I did. I did
write it on a gray leaf. I put the gray leaf in a moss-box at the end of an old
log near unto the altar of Saint Louis. The man that wears gray neckties and
is kind to mice knows about that moss-box where I do put letters for the
fairies. He believes in fairies, too. And we talk about them. He does ask me
what I write to them about and what things I have needs for them to bring. I
do tell him, and when the fairies do leave the things at the end of the old
log, I do take and show them to the man that wears gray neckties and is
kind to mice. He is so glad. He does believe in fairies, too.
As I did come back through the near woods, I did stop by some grand fir
trees to pray. When one does look looks up at the grand trees growing up
almost to the sky, one does always have longings to pray. When I did come
on, I did hear the mamma calling. When I was come to the door, she made
me go stand in the corner of the wood-shed. Soon she came out. She did
shut the door tight behind her. Then she did ask me what for was it I gave

Jenny Strong such a scare, and she did spank me most hard. Now I have
sore feels and I have thinks it would be nice to have a cushion to sit on. And
I do have wonders what it was Jenny Strong got scares about. I think
grown-ups are queer sometimes.
When I did go into the house, all the scares was gone off Jenny Strong.
The mamma soon did make me to go under the bed. Here I print. Jenny
Strong sits by the fire. She does sit in a rocking-chair with her feet propped
up on a soap-box. She hums as she sits. She crochets as she hums. She does
make lace in a quick way.
Now Jenny Strong and the mamma is gone to the house of Elsie to see
the new baby. When she did go, the mamma did tell me to put the baby to
sleep. I so did. I did sing it to sleep in the rocking-chair. I did sing it the
Rivière and Fleuve song: “A is for Adour, Avre, Ain, Aube, Arroux, and
Allier.” When I did get to “D is for Douze and Dordogne and Durance,” the
baby did move its arm. When I did get to “G is for Garonne and Gers and
Gard,” the baby did open its eyes. When I did get to “I is for Indre, and
Isère and Iraouaddy,” it did close its eyes. I did sing on. And sleeps did
come upon the baby.
We had lots on the table to eat to-night, because Jenny Strong is come.
And most everything I did get to eat I did make divides of it for my animal
friends. They will all have a good share. And they will be glad. There is
enough for all to have a good amount to eat, which often is n’t. I did feel a
goodly amount of satisfaction sitting there at the supper-table to-night for a
little time. I was thinking how glad the mice will be for the corn I have
saved for them; and too Brave Horatius will have good feels in his mouth
when he sees that big bone. And the birds will like all the scraps that are on
the plate of Jenny Strong if I can get them before the mamma gives them to
that big gray cat.

I have seeings that the folks, they are almost through eating. I now am
not at the table. I was only there for a very little while. I now am under the
bed. The mamma did send me away from the table—it seems a long time
ago. She did send me away from the table because when Jenny Strong
asked me if I liked her dress, I said, “Yes, and the ruffles around your neck
are like the ruffles around the neck of the man with the glove, when Titian
made his picture.” Jenny Strong looked a queer look and she said to the
mamma, “What a naughty child!” The mamma did straightway tell me to
crawl under the bed and to stay there. I so am. I have feels Jenny Strong has
not had seeing of the picture of the man with the glove that Titian did make.
I thought it was nice to tell her her ruffles were like his. They did look so
nice.
I have wonders about folks. They are hard to understand. I think I will
just say a little prayer. My, I do have such hungry feels now. They at the
table are not through yet. I make swallows down my throat. It is most hard
not to eat what I have saved for my animal friends. But they will like it—so
I can wait waits until breakfast-time. I can. In-between times I will have
thinks and prayers.

CHAPTER XVI

Of the Woods on a Lonesome Day, and the Friendliness of the Wood-
Folks on December Days when you Put your Ears Close and Listen.

This day—it was a lonely day. I did have longings all its hours for Angel
Mother and Angel Father. In-between times all day at school I did print
messages for them on gray leaves I did gather on the way to school. I did
tell on the leaves the longings I was having. Too, on the leaves I did tell of
William Shakespeare and our talks as we do go walking down the lane, and
the poetry I do tell him in the manger. And I did print on more leaves how I
do read out of the books they did make—how I do sit in the manger and
read what is in them, and he does have understandings. And on other leaves
I did tell them as how the nose of Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus that was
soreness has now well feels with prayers and mentholatum that Sadie
McKibben did give, and as how the head-ache of the most big rooster has
now well feels with camphoratum and vaselineatum; and as how the
stomach-ache of Aphrodite did get well feels with caster oilatum that Sadie
McKibben did give. And after, I did tell of how on many days in gray-light-
time I have had going on searches for the kisses of Angel Father, what he
did tell me to keep watches for in the fleurs while he was away gone to the
far lands. And on more leaves I did tell them as how Peter Paul Rubens that
was is not now, and how I do carry about with me the little bell he always
did wear in the cathedral.
And when these leaves were so done, I did not go on for a time little. For
a little time I did have thinks. And the thinks I did have—they were about

the glad song. The glad song in my heart sings not bright to-day. It is
lonesome feels I have. But I do try to have thinks as how I can bring
happiness to folks about. That is such a help when lonesome feels do come.
Angel Mother did say, “Make earth glad, little one—that is the way to keep
the fire-tongue of the glad song ever in your heart. It must not go out.” I so
do try to keep it there. I so do try, for it is helps on cold days and old days.
And I did have remembers as how it was Angel Mother did say, “When one
keeps the glad song singing in one’s heart then do the hearts of others sing.”
So I did make hard swallows to swallow all the lonesome feels, and I did
have thinks as how I would stop to get water-cress for the mamma on the
way home from school. She does have such a fondness for it. And too she
does have longings for singing lessons. I am saving my pennies to buy her
one. All the pennies that the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to
mice does give to me I save. I put them in the corner of the wood-shed
where Brave Horatius sleeps at night. I think I have most enough pennies to
buy her a singing lesson now. I have nineteen pennies. And when I grow up
I am going to buy her a whole rain-barrel full of singing lessons.
And then I did have thinks as how to-morrow I will be taking Elizabeth
Barrett Browning to visit the girl who has no seeing. They do both have
likings for one another. The girl who has no seeing has an understanding
soul. All my friends do have appreciations of the pats she does give to them
and the words she does say. And sometimes a goodly number of them do
have goings to her house with me. That is when her folks are not at home.
Then does Elizabeth Barrett Browning walk right by my side up to the door.
And Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus cuddles up in my arms, and in my
pockets do ride other folks—and Brave Horatius follows after.
When we are come, she does smooth back my curls and give me a kiss.
She says when we are come, “Here is come the kingdom of heaven.” I have
feels she has mistakes about that, because the kingdom of heaven, being up
in the sky, is there beyond the stars. And when we are come, she does have

asking about the voices. And I do help her to get understandings of the
thoughts growing with the fleurs and the trees and the leaves. And I do tell
her as how those are God’s thoughts growing right up out of the earth. And
she wants to know more. Always she does ask for more. To-morrow we will
go—Elizabeth Barrett Browning and me—we will go the way that does
lead to the house of the girl that has no seeing.
To-day, after I did have thinks about it in school, I did print more
messages on leaves for Angel Father and Angel Mother. I did tell them
about the girl who has no seeing. And on more leaves I did print all about
the cathedral and how the presence of Saint Louis is always near unto it.
And then it was come time for school to let out.
I went adown the road. I went the way by the field where Aidan of Iona
come from Lindisfarne was on yesterday. I climbed the fence. I looked
looks about. He was not there to-day. But there were Bede of Jarrow and
Felix of Croyland. I did have talks with them. I went on. I went on to the
singing creek where the willows grew. I gathered water-cress for the
mamma. Then I did go my way to the house we live in. No one was there. I
put the water-cress for the mamma on the cook table. Then I did bring much
wood in and put it in the wood-box back of the kitchen stove.
After the chickens did have their supper feed, I did go into the near
woods. I so went to tie the messages I did print on gray leaves to the trees.
And I tied one on one tree and one on another. I tied them there that they
may go in thoughts to Angel Mother and Angel Father up in heaven there.
And I did have thinks when the angels come to walk in the near woods they
would see and carry them on. And I did say a little prayer every time I did
tie on a leaf-message.
I did look looks about. This woods is gray in winter when come cold
days. And gray shadows walk among the trees. They touch one’s face with
velvet fingers when one goes walking there in the woods. In the winter old

gray leaves grow to look like lace. They are very beautiful. As I did go
along, I saw many gray rocks. Some gray rocks had gray and green patches
on them. Some of these patches had ruffles all around their edges. The gray
patches on gray rocks are lichens. My Angel Father said so. Lichen folks
talk in gray tones. I think they do talk more when come winter days. I hear
their voices more in December than I do hear their voices in July and June
time. Angel Father did show me the way to listen to lichen voices. Most
grown-ups don’t hear them at all. I see them walk right by—in a hurry
sometimes. And all the time the lichen folks are saying things. And the
things they say are their thoughts about the gladness of a winter day. I put
my ear close to the rocks and I listen. That is how I do hear what they are
saying. Then I do take a reed for a flute. I climb on a stump—on the most
high stump that is near. I pipe on the flute to the wind what the lichens are
saying. I am piper for the lichens that dwell on the gray rocks, and the
lichens that cling to the trees grown old.

CHAPTER XVII

Of Works to be Done; and how it Was that a Glad Light Came into the
Eyes of the Man who Wears Gray Neckties and Is Kind to Mice.

Morning works is done—and some more already too. There is enough
barks in for to-day and to-morrow. And many kindlings are now in on the
floor by the big wood-box. I have had my dinner at the noontime and I went
into the barn. There were little sad sounds in the stall. It was the moos of
Mathilde Plantagenet. Now I have thinks her moos were moos for some
dinner at noontime. She has breakfast at morningtime and supper she has at
gray-light-time. But when noontime is come, Mathilde Plantagenet is here
in the barn, and her mother, the most gentle Jersey cow, is away out in the
pasture. I have thinks there is needs for me to take Mathilde Plantagenet
from the barn to the pasture at noontimes so she may have her dinner. I go
now to so do.
I did give the latch of the barn-door a slip back. Then I led Mathilde
Plantagenet out by the little rope I did use to use to lead Elizabeth Barrett
Browning out by when she was a little calf. We went our way to the
pasture-bars. I did give to one a push, and it made a drop down. Then I gave
two more pushes, and they went drop downs. We went on through in
between. It took a more long time to fix up the pasture-bars. They have so
heavy feels when I go to put them back again. When I did have them so put,
we made a go-on. We went a little way on. We did not have goes far, for the
gentle Jersey cow had sees of our coming and she came to meet us. We was
glad to have it so. I have thinks Mathilde Plantagenet did have most joy

feels about it. She did start to get her dinner from her mother in a quick
way. I watched her suck and suck some more. Seeing her have her dinner
from her mother a long time before suppertime did make me to have such a
big amount of satisfaction feels.
The grandpa felt not so. There was disturbs on his temper. He was at our
house when I was come home from leading Mathilde Plantagenet back to
the barn after she had sucked her mother a long time. The mamma did
spank me some and some more. Now I have wonders why was it the
grandpa felt not satisfaction feels at Mathilde Plantagenet having her dinner
near noontime just like most all other children.
After the mamma did spank me, she told me more works to do, and she
went with her father to the ranch-house to see her mother that was newly
come back from the mill town where she did go early on this morning.
When the more works was done, I went in a quick soft way to the woods.
I made little hops over the bushes—the little bushes—as I did go along. I
went along the path until I came near unto the way that does lead to the big
old log where is the moss-box. I hid behind a tree when I was almost come
there. I so did to wait a wait to see if the fairies were near about. I had not
seeing of one about the moss-box.
I looked looks about. I looked looks about the old root by the log. It
turned a big piece of bark over. Under it was something between two layers
of moss tied up with a pink ribbon. I felt glad feels. When I did untie the
pink ribbon around the moss, there was lots more of pink ribbons. They did
have little cards, and the little card on a nice long piece of pink ribbon said,
“For Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.” Another card on a more long piece
did say, “For William Shakespeare.” Another card on a more short piece did
say, “For Lars Porsena of Clusium.” And there was a ribbon for Brave
Horatius and Isaiah and Elizabeth Barrett Browning and for Mathilde
Plantagenet, and there was more.

I did take them all in my arms and I did go to the mill in the far woods. I
so went to show all those pretty pink ribbons to the man that wears gray
neckties and is kind to mice. I did show him all the cards that was on them.
He was glad. I had seeing of the glad light in his eyes. He and I—we do
believe in fairies. Near him to-day was working the man of the long step
that whistles most all of the time. He is a man with an understanding soul.
When Brave Horatius did get his leg hurt the other day, this man did wash it
and mentholatum it, and he wrapped his handkerchief in rounds around it.
Brave Horatius has likes for him, too.
To-day, when I did show to the man that wears gray neckties and is kind
to mice all the pink ribbons the fairies did bring, he did say he thought the
other man would like to see Brave Horatius’s new pink ribbon that he was
going to wear to cathedral service come a Sunday. And he did have likes to
see it. When I told him how it was brought by the fairies to the moss-box by
the old log, he said, “By jolly—that’s fine.” And the man that wears gray
neckties and is kind to mice gave me pats on the head, and I brought the
ribbons back to a box where I do keep things in the woods.
I went on. When I was come to the house we live in, I had sees the
mamma was come back. When I was come into the house, I had sees with
her the mamma brought back a little bottle—it is called china-mending glue
—guaranteed to stick. That sounds great. I believe that bottle is quite a
blessing. It has an interest look. It will be of much use in many ways. I’m
glad the mamma set it on the lamp-shelf, because I can climb on the stove
and reach up to the shelf.
Now I go to talk with the willows where Nonette flows. I am going to tell
them about this being the borning day of Queen Elizabeth of York, in 1465.
Then I am going goes to tell William Shakespeare and Lars Porsena of
Clusium about it.

CHAPTER XVIII

How Opal Pays One Visit to Elsie and Another to Dear Love, and Learns
how to Mend her Clothes in a Quick Way.

The nipple on Elsie’s baby’s milk-bottle has not stay-ons. It has had
come-offs a lot of times to-day. The last time it did come off, Elsie did say,
“I wish it would stick tight this time.” I was standing by with the bacon she
was sending back that she did borrow from the mamma. When I did hear
her express her wish, I did tell her I had knows of a way to make that nipple
stick tight on the baby’s milk-bottle. She said, “That’s nice—I don’t know
of a way.” Inside me I had feels she ought to have knows of a way—now
that her babies are two. But I had sees how it was she had not knows of a
way; on her lamp-shelf back of the stove there is no bottle of china-
mending glue guaranteed to stick. I looked looks up to the shelf and there
was not any.
She had asks for me to show her the way. I told her it was as I would
have to go first to the house we live in. I so went in a quick way. The
mamma was not in. I put the bacon on the cook-table. Then I made a climb
up on the stove to get the bottle of china-mending glue. I most fell off the
stove, but I did n’t. If I did, I might have broke the bottle of china-mending
glue guaranteed to stick. That would have been a cal lamb of tea.
When I was come to the house of Elsie, she had askings what was she to
do. I told her to go in the bedroom and shut her eyes while her wish came
true. She filled the baby’s bottle that used to be a brandy bottle with warm
milk. She gave it and the nipple to me, and she went into the bedroom to

wait waits for her wish to come true. A little time it took. I had to have
carefuls, so there would n’t be glue in top of the bottle too. I made it in a
nice ring around the top. Then I put some more china-mending glue
guaranteed to stick in a ring around the edge of the nipple. That fixed it.
When I put it on, I had knows it would stick.
I put the china-mending glue in my pocket, and when I did say, “It is
fixed!” Elsie did come. I felt a big amount of satisfaction. It is nice to help
people to have what they wish for. It was as Elsie did have wishes for it to
be. When I did hand it to her, she did have askings how was she going to
have it stick on on other days when I was not there to make it so do. She did
have asks how did I do it. I told her it was n’t me—it was the china-
mending glue guaranteed to stick. That was what did it.
She had a spell of cough. It came in a sudden way upon her while I was
telling her what it was that made the nipple stick like she had wishes for it
to. I had not knows in the morning of this day she had a cold. Whenever she
does have a cold or feels of a one coming, she does send in a quick way for
her mother. And her mother does come. She comes down the road that goes
up to the mines. She has not come yet. And it’s an awful cough Elsie did
have then, and tears in her eyes.
When she did get better of the cough, I did give more explains how she
could always make the nipple stick on tight on the baby’s bottle by keeping
there on her lamp-shelf a bottle of mending glue guaranteed to stick. She
started to have coughs again and I gave her some pats on the back, like I
have seen a man by the mill by the far woods pat his brother on the back.
The pats on the back did help her some. When she had coughs no more, I
went out the door. She stepped out on her back steps. She gave my curls a
smooth back and told me thanks for making her wish come true. And she
told me more thanks for the in form ashun about how to make the nipple
stick on the baby’s bottle other times.

When I was come into the house we live in, I had thinks to go to visit
Dear Love. When I did give my dress a smooth-out, I did have feels of that
tear I got in it yesterday on top the barn door when I did go to talk with
Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael. That was not a little tear. It was quite a big
one. I had thinks it might get some more tear if I did not mend it. I got a
patch. It was almost like the dress. It was a piece of a piece that was left
when the mamma did make for her baby a jacket of light blue outing
flannel. The patch of light blue looked nice on my dark blue calico dress,
and the patch did have a soft feel. I mended it onto my dress with china-
mending glue guaranteed to stick. Mending it that way saves so much time.
It is quicker than mending it with a needle and thread in the regular way.
Then I went to get the cap of the husband of Dear Love. The husband of
Dear Love has given me one of his old caps to carry some of my pets in.
Sometimes caterpillars do ride in it—black and brown ones that do roll up
in a ball and sleep the all of the time that I have them out for a walk. And
sometimes Felix Mendelssohn and Nannerl Mozart and Louis II, le Grand
Condé, do all ride in it. It is a nice warm place for them to ride when we do
go on winter walks. But mostly Louis II, le Grand Condé, has prefers to ride
in the sleeves of my warm red dress.
Sometimes Brave Horatius does wear this cap that was the cap of the
husband of Dear Love. It so was to-day when Brave Horatius and I did go
to visit Dear Love; Brave Horatius did wear the cap of her husband. I put
little pink-ribbon strings on it, and I did tie them under his chin in a nice
way. He was very quiet while I did so do, and his being quiet did help me to
get them tied in a nice way. He is such a lovely dog. And he does have
appreciations for all the things I do for him. When I did have that cap tied
on in a nice way, he did bark a joy bark, and he gave his tail three wags, and
we did start to go to the house of Dear Love.
As we did go along I did make stops to look for cones and to get a piece
of long moss. I put them in my pocket. I put them there for the girl who has

no seeing. She has likes for the things I bring her to feel. She says she has
likes to have them near her in the house she does live in. So most every day
I do find something for her, so she can have joy with its feels. She so does
like pine-needles. I did gather for her my little basket full of pine-needles
under the most tall pine tree of all.
We went on. Little blue fleurs are early blooming now, before the oak
and maple trees have yet their leaves. I do so like blue. It is glad
everywhere. When I grow up I am going to write a book about the glads of
blue—and about the dauphinelle and lin and cornette and nigelle and herbe-
de-la-trinité.
We made more stops to tell the willows by Nonette about this day being
the borning day of Galileo in 1564 and the going-away day of Michael
Angelo in 1564. And I did say another little thank prayer to God for their
borning. This morning we did have prayers of thanks in the cathedral for the
works they did on earth. And Elizabeth Barrett Browning was there and
Brave Horatius and most of the rest of us, except Louis II, le Grand Condé.
When we were come to the house of Dear Love, the husband of Dear
Love was making for her a chair. He was putting much work on all the little
pieces. He did make all little rough places to have much smoothness. He so
did with tools out of a tool-box he does keep in the kitchen of their little
house. When he is not having uses of the tools in the tool-box, then the tool-
box has its lid down and it is a seat to sit on. Sometimes on rainy days when
I do take Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to visit Dear Love, we all do sit
on the tool-box and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus does allow Dear Love
to give him gentle pats on his nice white paws. He does have such beautiful
ones. To-day he did have allows for her to pat his paws while we did sit on
a little bench.
Dear Love had thinks the appears of the cap of her husband on the head
of Brave Horatius was very nice. And the husband of Dear Love did say the

pink ribbons now on his cap made it a better-looking cap. I had thinks so,
too. Before I did have comes back to the house we live in, Dear Love did
get out a piece of calico just like my dress. Then she cut out the light blue
patch that I did mend on with china-mending glue guaranteed to stick. She
did sew on the blue calico patch in a nice way. She so did because she
thought the light blue patch of outing flannel would be nice for a crib-robe
for Felix Mendelssohn.
While Dear Love was sewing that blue calico patch on my blue calico
dress with little stitches, her husband did smile and look at her and he did
say, “Another reason.” Now I have thinks the other reason was that he had
fears if I longer wore that light blue patch of outing flannel on my dress,
some of its soft feels would get wored off and would n’t be there for the
joys of Felix Mendelssohn. He is a mouse that has likes for soft feels to go
to sleep in.

CHAPTER XIX

Of the Camp by the Mill by the Far Woods; of the Spanking that Came
from the New Way of Mending Clothes; and of the Long Sleep of William
Shakespeare.

The papa is again come home from one of the upper camps—one of
those by the rivière. I had seeing of him when I went to look for Lucian
Horace Ovid Virgil under the front step. He said he was going to make early
garden. He said he thought he would set some onions out and plant some
radishes and some seeds that will grow into lettuce. I did make a stop to
help him. He said for me to carry off the rocks where he did make spade-
ups. I did. I picked up the rocks in a quick way. I carried them a little way
away by the brook. When summertime is come, I have thinks I will put
them in the brook with some more to make the brook have more wideness.
And the man of the long step that whistles most all of the time has made me
a water-wheel to go rounds in the brook when summertime is come.
The time it took to pick up those rocks—it was a time long. I did like to
do it. I had thinks it would be of helps to the papa. After they was all picked
up and carried over by the brook, I did go to the papa to see what more
helps I could be. He was talking with the husband of Elsie. When I did ask
him what helps I could be, he told me to run away from there—he wanted
to talk.
I so did. I got Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, and we went to the
woods. Brave Horatius did come a-following after. And Louis II, le Grand
Condé, did ride in the sleeve of my warm red dress. As we did go along, the

leaves of salal did make little rustles. They were little askings. They had
wants to know what day this was. I made stops along the way to tell them it
was the going-away day of Gentile Bellini in 1507 and Sir Joshua Reynolds
in 1792 and John Keats in 1821 and the borning day of George Frederick
Handel in 1685. I have thinks they and the tall fir trees were glad to know.
Brave Horatius barked a bark and we went on. He looked a look back to
see if we was coming. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus did cuddle up more
close in my arms. We saw six birds and I did sing to Brave Horatius the bird
song of grandpère of roitelet and ortolan and bruant and étourneau and
rossignol and tourterelle and durbec and orfraie and roussette and loriot
and nonnette and sarcelle and draine and épeiche and cygne and hirondelle
and aigle and ramier and tarin and rousserolle and émerillon and sittelle.
Brave Horatius and William Shakespeare do have likes for that song.
Sometimes I do sing it to them four times a day.
We all did go on until we were come near to where were two men of the
mill by the far woods. They were making divides of a very large log. They
were making it to be many short logs. There was a big saw going moves
between. One man did push it and one man did pull it. I went on. I did look
a look back. I had sees there was a tall fern growing by the foot of one man,
and he did have his new overalls cut off where they do meet the boots. I
wonder why it is the lumber-camp folk do cut off their overalls where they
do meet the boots. When they so cut them, they get fringy—and such
fringes are more long than other fringes. I wonder why it is they so cut them
—it maybe is because they so want fringes about the edge of the legs of
their overalls. I would have prefers for ruffles.

“I WONDER WHY IT IS THE LUMBER-CAMP FOLK DO CUT OFF THEIR OVERALLS
WHERE THEY DO MEET THE BOOTS”

We did go on. We went a little way on, and we had sees of more folks of
the camp by the mill by the far woods. I did make a climb upon an old tree-
root to have sees of them at work. Brave Horatius made a jump up, and he
came in a walk over to where me and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus were
sitting. We had seeing of them all working. I have thinks the folks that live
in the lumber camps—they are kindly folk. When they come home from
work at eventime, I do so like to sit on a stump and watch them go by. They
come in twos and threes. They do carry their dinner-pails in their hands.
And some do whistle as they come. And some do talk. And some that do see
me sitting on the stump do come aside and give to me the scraps in their
dinner-pails. Some have knowing of the needs I do have for scraps in the
nursery and the hospital. And too, when they come home from work in the
far woods, the men do bring bits of moss and nice velvet caterpillars and
little rocks. Some do. And these they give to me for my nature collections.
And I feel joy feels all over. Brave Horatius does bark joy barks. He does

know and I do know the folks that live in the lumber camps—they are
kindly folks.

Morning is glad on the hills. I hear a song like unto the song of the
verdier. The sky sings in blue tones. The earth sings in green. I am so
happy. The mamma is gone for a visit away. Before her going she did set
me to mind the baby. I do so. In between times I print, and I do spell over
and over the words in my two books Angel Father and Angel Mother did
make. I sing-song the letters of the words when I go adown the road. So I
do when I am in the house when the mamma is n’t at home. I do not so
when she is at home, because she won’t let me.
Now Elizabeth Barrett Browning is calling me out in the pasture. I expect
she wants an apple or a sugar-lump. But I cannot have goes out there to the
pasture because the mamma did say for me to mind the baby and mind the
house. I sing to the baby words out of the two books and the song about
Iraouaddy and the bird-song of grandpère. And I have minded the house as
the mamma did say for me to do. First I swept the floors in a careful way.
The broom made bobby moves. That broom in my hands makes not moves
like the moves it does make in the hands of the mamma. It has so much of
tallness. I look looks up its handle. And afterwards I did the windows a
wash up and down with a cloth that did have bon ami on it. When the
windows do get dirt on them it is quite a worry on the mamma’s mind. She
so likes to have all things clean. I have thinks maybe she will have some
glad feels way down in her heart where one cannot see them when she is
come home and has seeing of the windows made clean.
And more helps I have done. Most every week there is patches to fix on
clothes that have needs of them. Patching is quite a worry on the mamma’s
mind. It will be so no more. I have found a better way. While she was gone
away to-day I did get all the week’s patching done. First I began on the

papa’s undershirt. It needed a big patch on the elbow. The mamma had cut
out the patch and pinned it there on the sleeve near unto the hole. I patched
it on with china-mending glue guaranteed to stick.
Then I did do all the other patching that was in the basket. It did take
most all the china-mending glue. When I did see it was most all gone, I did
have remembers of that kettle that I have heard the mamma say she has
wishes its lid would stick on tight. It is always a-coming off. I did fix that
lid on that kettle so it will stay as tight as the mamma has wishes for it to.
And then I did put the bottle that used to be full of china-mending glue back
in its place on the lamp-shelf.
The baby had wake-ups and I did sing it to sleep. When sleeps was come
upon the baby, the mamma did come in the door. First she went to look
upon her dear baby sleeping there on the bed. She said now she was going
to mend those two mush-dishes. And she got the pieces of them from the
cupboard. She put them on the cook-table. And then the mamma went to get
the china-mending glue guaranteed to stick. There was none in the bottle. I
knew where it was gone. The mamma knew too. After she did spank for
some long time, she did ask me what I did with all that glue. It took quite
some time to tell her about Elsie’s baby’s bottle that she had wishes for the
nipple to stick on tight, and about all the patches the china-mending glue
did fix, and all the other things that it did fix.
When I got to the end she did spank me again. She said that was to be
good on. Now I do think it was real kind of her to tell me what that last
spanking was for. Most times I don’t know what I get spanked for. And I do
like to know, because if I did have knows what I was spanked for, I’d be
real careful about doing what it was again, if it was not helping folks of the
fields and woods. I have to do that no matter how many spanks I do get for
it. But there is so much joy in the woods and does help spank feels to hurt
not so much. Now I think I will go feed the folks in the nursery, and then I
will go to have vesper service in the cathedral.

Most all this afternoon-time I have been out in the field—the one that is
nearest unto the woods. I have been having talks with William Shakespeare.
To-day he is not working in the woods with the other horses. He is having a
rest-day. He was laying down near unto one of the altars I have builded for
Saint Louis. He did lay there all the afternoon. Tiredness was upon him. I
gave his nose rubs, and his neck and ears, too. And I did tell him poems and
sing him songs. He has likes for me to so do. After I did sing him more,
sleeps did come upon him. The breaths he did breathe while he was going
to sleep, they were such long breaths. And I gave unto him more pats on the
nose and pats on the neck. We are chums—William Shakespeare and me.
This evening I will come again to wake him. I’ll come just before
suppertime, so he may go in with the other horses to eat his supper in the
barn.
I did. Sleeps was yet upon him. He looked so tired lying there. I went up
to pet his front leg, but it was stiff. I petted him on the nose—and his nose it
was so cold. I called him, but he did not answer. I said again, “William
Shakespeare, don’t you hear me calling?” but he did not answer. I have
thinks he is having a long rest so he will have ready feels to pull the heavy
poles on to-morrow. I now go goes to tell the man that wears gray neckties
and is kind to mice about William Shakespeare having all this rest-day and
how he has sleeps in the field with the pink ribbon around his neck that the
fairies did bring. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus is going goes with me.
We will wait on the stump by that path he does follow when he comes home
from work at eventime.
We are come back. The man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice
did go with us to see William Shakespeare having his long sleep there in the
field by the altar of Saint Louis. Now I do have understanding. My dear
William Shakespeare will no more have wake-ups again. Rob Ryder cannot
give him whippings no more. He has gone to a long sleep—a very long
sleep. He just had goes because tired feels was upon him. I have so

lonesome feels for him, but I am glad that Rob Ryder cannot whip him now
no more. I have covered him over with leaves. To find enough, I went to the
far end of the near woods. I gathered them into my apron. Sometimes I
could hardly see my way because I just could not keep from crying. I have
such lonesome feels. William Shakespeare did have an understanding soul.
And I have knows his soul will not have forgets of the willows by the
singing creek. Often I will leave a message there on a leaf for him. I have
thinks his soul is not far gone away. There are little blue fleurs a-blooming
where he did lay him down to sleep.

CHAPTER XX

Of the Little Song-Notes that Dance about Babies; and of the Solemn
Christening of Solomon Grundy.

To-day was wash-day come again. After I did do my parts of the
washing, I did go to feed the folks in the nursery. When I was come back
again, I did start to make things out of clay. I was making vases out of clay
when the mamma called me to come empty the wash-water. There were two
tubs full of water. That’s an awful lot of water to empty. But I carry it out in
the wash-pan. And wash-pansfull of water are not so much water at a time,
but they soon empty the tub.
Then the mamma did have me to weed onions. There were an awful lot
of weeds trying to grow up around those onions. It took a very long time to
pull all the weeds. And my back did get some tired feels, but I did get those
weeds pulled out. I have thinks the onions were saying, when the wind did
rustle them, “We thank you for the more room we now have got to grow
in.” Folks growing in a garden do say interest things.
From the onion garden I did go to the Jardin des Tuileries. I so did go to
have a little service there, for this is the borning day of Charles de Valois in
1270, and the going-away day of Saint Grégoire in 604. Felix Mendelssohn
did ride in my pocket to service. He did sleep most of the time, though. I
did begin to sing by the two little trees I have planted, for Saint Grégoire I
and Charles de Valois. I first did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus
Deus, Hosanna in excelsis.” While I was singing, Brave Horatius and Lars

Porsena of Clusium came. They did wait while I did sing two more songs.
Then I said a long prayer and a little prayer.
Afterwards we did start to go along the path. We went a little way. Then I
did go aside. I went aside to the house of Elsie, to see the new baby. It was
sleeping in its cradle that the husband of Elsie made out of a box. He put
rockers on the box and Elsie put soft feels in it. After the box did have
rockers on it and soft feels in it, they did take the baby girl from the cradle
and lay her in the bed. And now everyday, except the day she does go with
her mother Elsie to visit her grandma, the baby does lay in the cradle. And
Elsie does rock the cradle with her foot while she sews. She sings and sings.
She sings “Rock-a-by baby in the tree-top; when the wind blows, the cradle
will rock.” And while she does sing, I have knowings that the little song-
notes do dance about the cradle of the baby.
To-day I did stay quite a time long to look upon the face of the baby. I so
do love babies. Every night I pray for the twins I want when I grow up.
Some nights I pray that they may have blue eyes and golden hair. Other
nights I pray for them to have brown eyes and brown hair. Sadie McKibben
tells me I better stop changing my prayers about so much, or the angels may
bring to me when I grow up twins with streaked hair and variegated eyes.
After I did look upon the little baby at the house of Elsie, I did have
thinks to go to the house of Sadie McKibben. I so did go. As I did go along,
I did have wonders if mothers can see the little song-notes that dance about
their babies’ cradles when they sing lullaby songs to them. I went on across
the field. When I was come to a stump by the fence corner, I stopped. I
heard a criard noise. It came from near the stump. I think it was a mulot. I
looked looks about. I had not seeing of it. I went on. I saw a blue jay near
by the old log where I did hide nineteen acorn children on a gray day in
September. He was looking looks about. I watched him make a flyaway
with one of my acorns. I did count what was left. There was only a few.

I went on. When I was come to the house of Sadie McKibben, she was
washing clothes. On washing days Sadie McKibben does look a bit
different from her appears on other days. On wash-days along in the
afternoon her hair does hang in strings about her face. Her dress does have
crinkles all adown it. And her nice blue gingham apron with cross stitches
on it does have rumples and soapy smells. I do know so for I do smell those
soapy smells when I cuddle close to her apron on wash-days.
To-day I did stay by the side of Sadie McKibben for a little time. Then I
did go to weed her onions for her. They did have looks like they did have
needs for more room to grow in. And while I did weed her onions, I did see
many beautiful things about. There is so much to see near about and a little
way off, and there is so much to hear. And most all the time I am seeing, I
am hearing, and I do have such glad feels.

To-day we did christen Solomon Grundy. He was borned a week ago
yesterday on Monday. That’s why we did name him Solomon Grundy. And
this being Tuesday we did christen him, for in the rhyme, the grandpa does
sing to the children about Solomon Grundy being christened on Tuesday.
Yesterday I made him a christening robe out of a new dish-towel that was
flapping in the wind. But the aunt had no appreciation of the great need of a
christening robe for Solomon Grundy. And my ears were slapped until I
thought my head would pop open, but it did n’t. It just ached. Last night
when I went to bed I prayed for the ache to go away. This morning when I
woke up it had gone out the window. I did feel good feels from my nightcap
to my toes. I thought about the christening, and early on this morning,
before I yet did eat my breakfast, I went out the window that the ache went
out in the night. I went from the window to the pig-pen.
I climbed into the pig-pen. I crawled on my hands and knees back under
the shed where he and his sisters five and his little brother were all having

breakfast from their mother. I gently did pull away by his hind-legs, from
among all those dear baby pigs, he who had the most curl in his tail. I took
him to the pump and pumped water on him to get every speck of dirt off.
He squealed because the water was cold. So I took some of the warm water
the mamma was going to wash the milk-pans in and I did give him a warm
bath in the wash-pan. Then he was the pinkiest white pig you ever saw. I
took the baby’s talcum-powder can and I shook it lots of times all over him.
When the powder sprinkled in his eyes, he did object with a regular baby-
pig squeal. And I climbed right out the bedroom window with him, because
the mamma heard his squeal and she was coming fast. I did go to the barn
in a hurry, for in the barn yesterday I did hide the christening robe. When I
reached the top of the hay I stopped to put it on Solomon Grundy. Then we
proceeded to the cathedral.
A little ways we did go, and I remembered how on the borning day of
him I did ask that grand fir tree, Good King Edward I, to be his god-father.
And that smaller fir tree growing by his side—the lovely Queen Eleanor of
Castile—I did ask to be his godmother. We went aside from the path that
leads unto the cathedral. We went another way. We went adown the lane to
where dwell Good King Edward I and the lovely Queen Eleanor. And there
beside them Solomon Grundy was christened. They who were present at the
christening were these—Saint Louis and Charlemagne and Hugh Capet and
King Alfred and Theodore Roosevelt and William Wordsworth and Homer
and Cicero and Brave Horatius and Isaiah. These last two did arrive in a
hurry in the midst of the service. Being dogs with understanding souls, they
did realize the sacredness of the occasion and they stood silent near
Charlemagne.
When we got most to the end of the service just at that very solemn
moment while I was waiting for Good King Edward I and his lovely
Queen Eleanor of Castile to bestow their blessing upon the white head of
the babe, he gave a squeal—just the kind of a squeal all baby pigs give

when they are wanting their dinner. After the naming of him, I placed
around his neck a little wreath that I made in the evening yesterday for him.
Then I did sing softly a hymn to the morning and came again home to the
pig-pen with Solomon Grundy.
When I got to the corner of the barn, I pulled off his christening robe. I
did hide it again in the hay. Then I climbed into the pig-pen. I did say the
Lord’s prayer softly over the head of Solomon Grundy. After I said Amen I
did poke him in among all his sisters and near unto his mother. Aphrodite
gave a grunt of satisfaction, also did Solomon Grundy.
I went to the house. I climbed in the window again. I took off my
nightcap and my nightgown. I did get dressed in a quick way. The little girl
was romping in the bed. I helped her to get her clothes on. Then we went to
the kitchen for our breakfast. The mamma was in the cellar. She did hear me
come into the kitchen. She came in. With her came a kindling and a hazel
switch.
After she did spank me, she told me to get the mush for the little girl’s
breakfast. It was in a kettle. I spooned it out into a blue dish that came as
premium in the box of mush when they brought it new from the mill town.
After we did eat our mush and drink our milk, the mamma told me to clear
the table and go tend chickens. I carried feed to them. I scattered it in
shakes. The chickens came in a quick way. Fifteen of those chickens I did
give names to, but it’s hard to tell some of them apart. Most of them have
about the same number of speckles on them. I counted all the chickens that
were there. There were n’t as many there as ought to be there. Some came
not. These were the hens setting in the chicken-house. I went in. I lifted
them off. They were fidgety and fluffy and clucky. I did carry them out to
the feed.
While they were eating breakfast I counted their eggs. I made a
discovery. Minerva had n’t as many eggs as the others. That meant she

would n’t have as many children as the others would have. I did begin to
feel sorry about that, because already I had picked out names for her fifteen
children and there in her nest there were only twelve eggs. I did n’t know
what to do, and then I had a think what to do. I did it. I took an egg from
each nest of the three other setting hens. That fixed things.
Then I thought I would go on an exploration trip and to the nursery, and
there I would give the folks a talk on geology. But then the mamma called
me to scour the pots and pans. That is something I do not like to do at all.
So all the time I’m scouring them I keep saying lovely verses,—that helps
so much,—and by and by the pots and pans are all clean. After that all day
the mamma did have more works for me to do. There was more wood to
bring in. There was steps to scrub. There was cream to be shaked into
butter. There was raking to do in the yard. There was carpet-strings to sew
together. In-between times there was the baby to tend. And all the time all
day long I did have longings to go on exploration trips. The fields were
calling. The woods were calling. I heard the wind. He was making music in
the forest. It was soft music. It was low. It was an echo of the songs the
flowers were singing. Even if there was much works to do, hearing the
voices helped me to get the works done in the way they ought to be done.
The most hurry time of all was the time near eventime, for there was
going to be company to eat at the table. The mamma was in a hurry to get
supper. So I helped her. She only had time to give one shake of salt to the
potatoes, so I gave them three more. She did not have time to put sauce on
the peas, so I flavored them with lemon extract, for the mamma is so fond
of lemon flavoring in lemon pies. When she made the biscuits, she was in
such a hurry she forgot to set them on a box back of the stove for an airing,
as usual, before putting them in the oven. Being as she forgot to do it, while
she was in the cellar to get the butter I did take the pan of biscuits out of the
oven and put them under the stove so they would not miss their usual airing.
Then I did go to the wood-shed for more wood. When I did put it in the

wood-box the mamma reached over for me. She jerked me. She spanked me
with her hand and the hair-brush and the pancake-turner. Then she shoved
me out the door. She said for me to get out and stay out of her way.
I came here to the barn. I sit here printing. In-between times I stretch out
on the hay. I feel tired and sore all over. I wonder for what it was the
mamma gave me that spanking. I have tried so hard to help her to-day.
Solomon Grundy is grunting here beside me. I went by and got him as I
came along. Here on the hay I showed to him the writings in the two books
my Angel Father and Angel Mother made for me. These books are such a
comfort, and when I have them right along with me, Angel Father and
Angel Mother do seem nearer. I did bow my head and ask my guardian
angel to tell them there in heaven about Solomon Grundy being christened
to-day. Then I drew him up closer to my gingham apron and I patted him
often. And some of the pats I gave to him were for the lovely Peter Paul
Rubens that used to be. And the more pats I gave Solomon Grundy, the
closer he snuggled up beside me. To-night I shall sing to him a lullaby song
as I cuddle him up all snowy white in his christening robe, before I take him
out to his mother Aphrodite in the pig-pen.

I now have a bottle with a nipple on it for Solomon Grundy. But he won’t
pay much attention to it. He has prefers to get his dinner from his mother
Aphrodite out in the pig-pen.
After he so did have his dinner to-day, and after my morning works were
done and I did have that hen started on a set—that hen had wants to set so
much; I did have an awful time getting her off the nest at feeding-time. I
had thinks I would set her myself, being as the mamma does n’t want to
bother about it. I had thinks I would put three eggs under her to-day, and
three more when comes to-morrow, and three on the next day, and three on
the next. That will give her a good setting of eggs to start on.

To-day, after I so did have her started on a set with three eggs, then I
went to visit Dear Love. I did cuddle up Solomon Grundy in one arm and
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus in the other arm. And so we went to visit
Dear Love. Solomon Grundy wore his christening robe and he looked very
sweet in it. I gave him a nice warm bath before we did start, so as to get all
the pig-pen smells off. Sometimes smells do get in that pig-pen, though I do
give it brush-outs every day, and I do carry old leaves and bracken ferns and
straws in for beds for Aphrodite. After I did give Solomon Grundy his bath I
did dust talcumatum powder over him. I was real careful not to get any in
his eyes.
As we did go along I did sing to them a lullaby about Nonette and
Saint Firmin, and more I did sing about Iraouaddy. We went on. Then I did
tell them about the beautiful love the man of the long step that whistles
most all of the time does have for the pensée girl with the far-away look in
her eyes. But he is afraid to tell her about it—Sadie McKibben says he is.
Sadie McKibben says he is a very shy man. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus
did go to sleeps while I was telling them about it—and Solomon Grundy
did grunt a little grunt. It was a grunt for more sings. So I did sing to him,—

“Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?”

He had likes for that song and he grunted a grunt with a question in it. So
I did sing him some more, “Indeed he did, Solomon Grundy, indeed he did.
And the hairs of thy baby head—they are numbered.” Soon I shall be
counting them to see how many they are.
We went on to the house of Dear Love. When we were come to there, the
husband of Dear Love was digging in the ground under the front window of
their little house. As he did dig, he did pick up the little rocks that were
under the window and he did lay them aside. I did have asks what for was
he digging up the ground under their window. And he did give explanations.
He is making a flower-bed, and when it is made, Dear Love is going to
plant morning-glory seeds in it. And then morning-glory vines will grow up
around the window. I think that will be so nice. I did ask him how far up
they would grow. And he reached up his hand to where they have thinks the
morning-glory vines will grow to. I looked up. It was high up. It was lots
more up than I have growed to. Now I think it would be nice to be a
morning-glory vine and grow up and up. In the fields I have had seeing that
the little white ones there do grow out and out. I did ask them how many
leaves does the morning-glory have, that is going to grow up by their
window. They both did say they were sorry but they did not know. Then I
did tell them that they did not need to have cry feels about it, because when
it is growing up we can learn together how many leaves it has. And he did
stop digging digs, to take Solomon Grundy in his arms, and Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus had allows for Dear Love to pet his paws.

CHAPTER XXI

How Opal Names Names of the Lambs of Aidan of Iona, and Seeks for
the Soul of Peter Paul Rubens.

To-day was a very stormy day—more rainy than other stormy days. So
we had cathedral service on the hay in the barn. Mathilde Plantagenet was
below us in her stall, and she did moo moos while I did sing the choir-
service. Plato and Pliny, the two bats, hung on the rafters in a dark corner.
Lars Porsena of Clusium perched on the back of Brave Horatius. Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus sat at my feet and munched leaves while I said
prayers. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil was on my right shoulder, and Louis II,
le Grand Condé, was on my left shoulder—part of the time; then he did
crawl in my sleeve to have a sleep. Solomon Grundy was asleep by my side
in his christening robe, and a sweet picture he was in it. On my other side
was his little sister, Anthonya Mundy, who has not got as much curl in her
tail as has Solomon Grundy.
Clementine, the Plymouth Rock hen, was late come to service. She came
up from the stall of the gentle Jersey cow just when I was through singing
“Hosanna in excelsis.” She came and perched on the back of Brave
Horatius, back of Lars Porsena of Clusium. Then I said more prayers, and
Brave Horatius did bark Amen. When he so did, Clementine tumbled off his
back. She came over by me. I had thinks it would be nice if her pretty gray
feathers were blue. I gave her a gentle pat and then I did begin the talk
service. I did use for my text, “Blessed be the pure in heart, for they shall

see God.” And all of the time the raindrops did made little joy patters on the
roof. They were coming down from the sky in a quick way.

Now is the begins of the borning-time of the year. I did hurry home from
school in a quick way in the afternoon of this day. Aidan of Iona come from
Lindisfarne has said I may name the little lambs that now are coming. All
day I did have thinks about what names to call them by. There are some
names I do so like to sing the spell of. Some names I do sing over and over
again when I do go on explores. I could hardly wait waits until school-
getting-out time. I had remembers how Sadie McKibben says no child
should grow a day old without having a name. Now some of those dear
baby lambs are two and three days old since their borning-time.
When I was come to where was Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne, I
did tell him now I have come to name all your lambs. He did have one little
lamb in his arms. He did tell me as how it was it did n’t belong to anyone,
and it was lonesome without a mother. He said he had thinks he would give
it to me to mother. I was so happy. It was very white and very soft and its
legs was slim and it had wants for a mother. It had likes for me to put my
arms around it. I did name it first of all. I called it Menander Euripides
Theocritus Thucydides. It had likes for the taste of my fingers when I did
dip them into the pan of milk on the rock and then put them in its mouth. Its
woolly tail did wiggle joy wiggles. And I did dance on my toes. I felt such a
big amount of satisfaction feels—having a lamb to mother.
I am getting quite a big family now. After I did dip my fingers in the milk
for Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides, I was going goes to see
about getting a brandy bottle somewhere and a nipple, so this baby lamb
could have a bottle to nurse like other babies hereabouts. When I did make
a start to go, Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne did say, “You are not
going away before you name the others, are you?” Of course I was not, and

he said Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides was full up of milk for
to-day, and I could bring his bottle on the morrow.
Then I did make begins to name the other lambs. They were dear and so
dear. First one I did come to I did name Plutarch Demosthenes; the next one
I did name Marcus Aurelius. And one came close by Aidan of Iona come
from Lindisfarne, and I called it Epicurus Pythagoras. One did look a little
more little than the others: I called him Anacreon Herodotus. One was more
big than all the others. I named him Homer Archimedes Chilon. He gave his
tail a wiggle and came close to his mother. One had a more short tail and a
question look in his eyes. I called him Sophocles Diogenes. And one more I
called Periander Pindar, and one was Solon Thales, and the last one of all
that had not yet a name, I did call him Tibullus Theognis. He was a very
fuzzy lamb and he had very long legs.
The shepherd did have likes for the names I did give to his little lambs,
and the names I did give to his sheep a long time ago. And to-day, when he
did tell me how he did have likes for their names, I did tell him how I have
likes for them too, and how I have thinks to learn more about them when I
do grow up more tall. I told him how I did sing the spell of the words to the
fishes that live in the singing creek where the willows grew. After I said
good-bye to all the other lambs, I did kiss Menander Euripides Theocritus
Thucydides on the nose. I have thinks every eventime I will kiss him good-
night, because maybe he does have lonesome feels too, and maybe he does
have longs for kisses like the longs I do have for them every night-time.
Before I was come to the house we do live in, I did make a stop by the
singing creek where the willows grow. I did print a message on a leaf. It
was for the soul of William Shakespeare. I tied it on a willow branch. Then
I did go by the cathedral to say thank prayers for Menander Euripides
Theocritus Thucydides. And I did have remembers that this was the going-
away day of Reine Marie Amélie in 1866 and Queen Elizabeth in 1603.
And I did say a thank prayer for the goodness of them. It was near dark-

time. There were little whispers in the woods and shadows with velvet
fingers. I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus.”
Before I did come on to the house we live in, I did go aside to have sees
of a cream lily that has its growing near unto the cathedral. I have watched
the leafing of that lily, and I have watched its budding. A long time I have
had thinks about it. To-day its blooming-time was come. There it was. I
went close unto it. My soul was full of thank feels. Ever since the day when
Peter Paul Rubens did go away, I have looked for his soul in tree-tops and
all about. Now I have knows his soul does love to linger by this lily. I did
kneel by it and say a thank prayer for the blooming of this fleur. Peter Paul
Rubens’s soul does love to linger near. If ever I go from here, I will take
with me this lily plant. I did have feels that my dear Peter Paul Rubens was
very near this eventime.

To-day is more rain come again. I like rain. I like the music patters it
does make. I like to have feels of it on my head. When it rains, I like to go
barefooted. I like to feel the clean mud by the lane ooze up between my
toes. When I did see the rain coming down in so fast a way, I did go to the
barn. And after I did have them off, I did put my shoes and stockings in the
hay. I went out to talk with Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael about this day
being the borning day of Sanzio Raphael in 1483. Then I came down by the
lane. I was so glad to have my shoes and stockings off. The feel was so
good. Having my shoes and stockings off made my heels feel like they were
getting wings.
I went up and down the lane. Brave Horatius came a-following after. I
had thinks to go see how was Minerva in the hen-house. I saw her feathers
were more fluffy, and there was some more heads than hers in her nest.
There was the heads of the little chickens I did pick out names for before
they was yet hatched. And now I cannot tell them apart. Minerva had one

baby chicken to hatch four days ago, and one baby chicken three days ago,
and one more baby chicken two days ago. I heard the grandpa say it was a
puzzle what was making that hen to have her chickens begin hatching so
soon and then no more to hatch until to-day. Too, I have thinks it is a
puzzle. But any way she is going to have fifteen chickens, because that day
a little time ago I took one egg each from those hens that was set before she
was, so Minerva would have the fifteen children I had already picked out
names for.
I did tell Minerva again the names I did pick out for all her children
before they was yet hatched. I told her Edmund Spenser and John Fletcher
and Francis Beaumont and Jean Racine and Sir Walter Raleigh and Jean
Molière and Sir Francis Bacon and Nicholas Boileau and Sir Philip Sidney
and Jean de la Fontaine and Ben Jonson and Oliver Goldsmith and Cardinal
Richelieu and Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Pius VII. And Minerva had joy
feels when I did tell her, and she ate all the grain in my hand while I was
telling her.
Minerva is a very nice hen and it is so nice she has so many children at
once. I so do like to pick out names for children. Now I have thinks there is
needs for me to hurry to get those christening robes done for her children,
being as they are hatching now. On the day of their christening I will carry
them in a little basket to the cathedral. There is needs to carry little chickens
in a basket, for they are delicate. To-day I did show Minerva the little cap
with ruffles on it that I have just made for her to wear to the cathedral at
their christening. I made it like Jenny Strong’s morning-cap with ruffles on
it.
After I did talk some more with Minerva, and she did chuckle some more
chuckles, I did make a start to go to the cathedral to have a thank service for
the borning of Sanzio Raphael in 1483. As I did go, I went aside to the pig-
pen. Every time my way goes near to the way that goes to the pig-pen I do
go that way. I so go to take a peep at Aphrodite. She does have such a

motherly look with those dear baby-pigs about her. How nice it must be to
be a mother-pig. It must be a big amount of satisfaction, having so many
babies at one time.

CHAPTER XXII

How Solomon Grundy Falls Sick and Grows Well again; and Minerva’s
Chickens are Christened; and the Pensée Girl, with the Far-Away Look
in her Eyes, Finds Thirty-and-Three Bunches of Flowers.

To-day I went not to school. For a long time after breakfast the mamma
did have me to cut potatoes into pieces. To-night and to-morrow night the
grown-ups will plant the pieces of potatoes I cut to-day. Then by-and-by—
after some long time—the pieces of potato with eyes on them will have
baby potatoes under the ground. Up above the ground they will be growing
leaves and flowers. One must leave an eye on every piece of potato one
plants in the ground to grow. It won’t grow if you don’t. It can’t see how to
grow without its eye. All day to-day I did be careful to leave an eye on
every piece. And I did have meditations about what things the eyes of
potatoes do see there in the ground. I have thinks they do have seeing of
black velvet moles and large earthworms that do get short in a quick way.
And potato flowers above the ground do see the doings of the field—and
maybe they do look away and see the willows that grow by the singing
creek. I do wonder if potato plants do have longings to dabble their toes. I
have supposes they do just like I do. Being a potato must be interest—
specially the having so many eyes. I have longings for more eyes. There is
much to see in this world all about. Every day I do see beautiful things
everywhere I do go.
To-day it was near eventime—the time I did have all those potatoes ready
for plants. Then I did go to see Solomon Grundy in the pig-pen. I did take a

sugar-lump in my apron pocket for his dear mother, Aphrodite. She had
appreciations and well looks. But the looks of Solomon Grundy—they were
not well looks. He did lay so still in a quiet way. I gave to him three looks. I
felt a lump come in my throat. His looks they were so different. I made a
run for the wood-box—the wood-box I did bring before for the getting-in of
Brave Horatius to service in the pig-pen. I did step on it in getting Solomon
Grundy out of the pig-pen. I did have fears if I did it in jumps, as I always
do, the jumps might bother the feelings of Solomon Grundy. So I did have
needs for that box. It is such a help. Every time I do get a place fixed in the
pig-pen so some of the pigs can get out to go to walks and to go to the
cathedral service, the grown-ups at the ranch-house do always fix the
boards back again. So a box is helps to get the little pigs that are n’t too big
over the top.
When I did have Solomon Grundy over the top, I did cuddle him up in
my gray calico apron. I have thinks he does like the blue one best. But to-
day he had not seeings it was n’t the blue one I had on. He did not give his
baby squeaks. He was only stillness. I did have fears that sickness was upon
him. He has lost that piece of asfiditee I did tie around his neck the other
day. That was the last piece I did have. It was the little piece that was left of
the big piece that the mamma did tie around my neck, and I did make
divides with my friends. But Solomon Grundy—he has lost his share both
times. He does lose it in a quick way. And I did have no Castoria to give
him, because the mamma has gone and put away the baby’s bottle of
Castoria where I cannot find it.
I did not have knowings what to do for him. But I did have thinks the
man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice would have knowings
what to do for the sickness of Solomon Grundy. I made starts to the mill by
the far woods. Brave Horatius was waiting at the barn. He gave his tail two
wags and followed after. We went by Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael. I did
tell him the baby in my arms was sick. I said a little prayer over his head.

We went along the lane. When we were come to Good King Edward I and
lovely Queen Eleanor, we made stops. I did tell them of the sickness of the
baby. I said a little prayer for his getting well. And I did hold him up for
their blessing. Then we went on, and Brave Horatius came a-following
after. When we were come to the ending of the lane, I said another little
prayer. Then we went on. When we were come near unto the altar of Good
King Edward I, I said another little prayer. Then we went on. Elizabeth
Barrett Browning was in the woods, and she went with us. She mostly does
so. And we went on.
By-and-by my arms was getting tired. Solomon Grundy, now that he is
older grown, does get a little heavy when I carry him quite a long ways.
When I was come to the far end of the near woods, I met the man that wears
gray neckties and is kind to mice. He smiled the gentle smile he always
does smile, and he took Solomon Grundy into his arms. I have thinks he did
see the tiredness that was in my arms. When he sat down on a log with the
dear pig, I said I had fears Solomon Grundy was sick. He said he did too.
But he smoothed my curls back and he said, “Don’t you worry; he will get
well.” Hearing him say that made me have better feels.
Men are such a comfort—men that wear gray neckties and are kind to
mice. One I know. He looks kind looks upon the forest and he does love the
grand fir trees that do grow there. I have seen him stretch out his arms to
them just like I do do in the cathedral. He does have kindness for the little
folks that do live about the grand trees. His ways are ways of gentleness.
All my friends have likes for him, and so had Solomon Grundy. To-day he
said he would take Solomon Grundy back to camp by the mill to his bunk-
house. A warming he did need, so he said, and he said he would wrap him
in his blanket and take care of him until morningtime was come. Then he
did go the way that goes to the far woods and I did go the way that does go
to the cathedral. I so went to have a little thank service for the getting well
of Solomon Grundy. I do have knowings he will be well when morningtime

is come. With me to the cathedral did go Elizabeth Barrett Browning and
Brave Horatius.

This morning before breakfast I did go to the cathedral to say thanks for
the goodness of one William Wordsworth, for this is the day of his borning
in 1770. With me did go Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. And Brave
Horatius came a-following after.
After the morning’s work was done, I took my little basket most full of
christening robes to the pen-place near the hen-house where is Minerva and
her fourteen baby chickens. One baby chicken did n’t hatch. I had most
enough christening robes ready on yesterday afternoon but one. When I did
go to sing her baby to sleeps, Elsie did help me to fix that one while I did
carry in some wood for her. She put a little ruffle of lace on it and a little
blue bow of ribbon. It looked very nice. I did have thinks how nice they
would look if all of the christening robes for the baby chickens of Minerva
did have little bows of ribbon on them.
Elsie had asks what was my thoughts about, and I did tell her. And she
did say she had thinks that way too. And she did make a go to her work-
basket that was under the shelf where does set the bottle of vaseline that her
young husband does smooth back his pumpadoor with. That vaseline jar is
most empty again. When Elsie did find some little ribbons in her work-
basket, she did go and raise up the trunk-lid and she did find some more
little ribbons in the tray of the trunk. She tied them all into little bows. And
some were pink and some were lavande and some were blue and some were
rose. There was enough for every baby chicken to have one on his
christening robe. And I did sew them all on at night-time on yesterday when
the mamma did put me under the bed. Light enough came from the lamp on
the kitchen table so I could have sees to sew them all on.

When we was come near unto the cathedral, I made a stop to put on their
christening-robes. Nicholas Boileau and Jean Molière did have lavande
ribbon bows on theirs. They waited waits in a corner of the basket while I
did put on the others. Sir Walter Raleigh had a little pink bow on his. He
would not keep still while I was getting him into his robes. He peeped three
times. But Sir Francis Bacon was more fidgety than he was. It took quite a
time to get his christening robe on. Ben Jonson did wear the christening
robe with the ruffle of lace around it, and before I did get him put back in
the basket there, he did catch his toe in that ruffle of lace. Then he peeped. I
took his toe out of the ruffle, and put a christening robe with a rose ribbon
bow on it on Francis Beaumont and one like it on John Fletcher, because
their names was together in the book Angel Mother did write in.
After I did get little brown Oliver Goldsmith and all the rest of the
children of Minerva into their christening robes, then I did take out of my
pocket her little white cap with the ruffles on it like the ruffles on the
morning-cap of Jenny Strong. I tied it under Minerva’s bill. She was a sweet
picture in it coming down the cathedral aisle by my side. Minerva is a
plump hen of gentle ways. It is not often she does talk, but she did chuckle
all of the time while her baby chickens was getting christened. Brave
Horatius stood by the altar and Lars Porsena of Clusium did perch upon his
back. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil did sit on a log close by. And Mathilde
Plantagenet watched from the pasture-bars. Menander Euripides Theocritus
Thucydides did walk by my side when we went goes to have asks for the
blessing of Saint Louis on all Minerva’s baby chickens after they were
christened. Then I did sing “Hosanna in Excelsis.” And Ben Jonson peeped
and so did Francis Beaumont and Pius VII. He was wiggling so that his
christening robe was most off him. I put it on again. Then I did stop to
straighten up Minerva’s cap with the ruffles on it. It had had a slip-back.
Then we had more prayers. Afterward we all did have goes back to the
chicken-yard pen. I took off Minerva’s cap so it would be clean for

cathedral service on Sundays. Then I put her and all her children back in
their pen, after they did have their christening robes off.
After I did give Minerva some good-bye pats and advices about bringing
up her children, then I did go goes to the house of Sadie McKibben.
Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides did walk by my side and Brave
Horatius came a-following after. When I was come to the house of Sadie
McKibben, there was Dear Love. They was glad we was come, and they
had likes for Minerva’s little cap with the ruffles around it like the morning-
cap of Jenny Strong. Dear Love did give Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus
some pats on his nice white paws.
And they did talk on. I did have hears of them saying of the pensée girl
with the far-away look in her eyes, that is come again to visit her aunt of the
gray calico dress with the black bow at its neck. I was glad she is come
again. I whispered to Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus about my glad feels
in his left ear. He cuddled up more close. We listened more listens. Dear
Love too did say to Sadie McKibben as how it is the man of the long step
that whistles most all of the time has great love for the pensée girl with the
far-away look in her eyes; and how it is he is afraid to speak to her about
this great love he has for her. And more Dear Love did say of how it is he
does pick bunches of flowers in the woods for her and then he does lay
them by an old log because he has too shy feels to take them on to her.
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus did stick out his right front foot. I gave it
a pat, and I did give him some throat rubs,—that he had likes for,—and all
of the time I was having thinks. I looked looks out the side window of the
house of Sadie McKibben. A white cloud was sailing in the sky. A little
wind was in the woods. It was calling, “Petite Françoise, come, petite
Françoise.” I did tell Dear Love and Sadie McKibben there was needs for
me to hurry away. They did have understanding, and Sadie McKibben did
say it was not long I was staying to-day, and she would wait waits for my
return coming on the morrow. Dear Love did tell me of the pieces she did

find in the top of her trunk that were waiting waits to be made into
christening robes for little folks that now do have their borning-time. I was
glad, for there is needs of more.
After I did say good-bye, I went goes on to the woods. I did not follow
the trail that does go to the moss-box where I do leave letters on leaves for
the fairies. The wind was calling. I followed after it. It was not adown the
path that does lead to the nursery. It was calling over logs in the way that
does lead to where is that old log with the bunches of flowers by it and
under its edges. They was the flowers that the man of the long step that
whistles most all of the time did gather for the pensée girl with the far-away
look in her eyes. Some of the bunches of flowers was all faded. It is days a
long time since he did put them there, and it is only a little time since he did
put the last ones there.
I set down on the moss my basket that I did carry Minerva’s baby
chickens to christening in. Then I made begins. First I put some moss in the
basket, then I did put in some of the bunches of flowers. I put in the most
faded ones because they had been waiting waits the longest. Then we all did
go in a hurry to the house of her aunt of the gray calico dress with the black
bow at its neck.
The aunt was not there, and we were glad; but the pensée girl with the
far-away look in her eyes was there. She came to the door when we did tap
upon its handle. I did tell her all in one breath that we was making begins to
bring the flowers that the man of the long step that whistles most all of the
time did gather for her on many days. We gave her explanations how it was
too shy feels he had to bring them to her himself, so he did lay them by the
old log. I told her as how it was we did bring the most faded ones first
because they was waiting waits the longest; and she did take them all up in
her arms. And I told her my dog’s name was Brave Horatius and he was a
fine dog, and that Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus was a most lovely wood-
rat, and I held out his white paw for her to have feels of; but he did pull it

back and cuddle his nose up close to my curls. I told her how it was he was
shy, too, and when he had knows of her better he would let her pat his nice
white paws.
Then I did take my basket and go goes in a hurry back to get the flowers.
I did carry the next most old ones to her. And she was glad for them. She
was waiting waits for me on the steps of the house of her aunt of the gray
calico dress with the black bow at its neck. She was ready to go back with
us to the log where the flowers was; and there was joy-lights in her eyes.
While we did go along, I did tell her more about the little animal and bird
folks that do live in the woods and I did tell her about the great love the
man of the long step that whistles most all of the time does have for her.
Quietness was upon her, and we did walk on in a slow way. A beetle went
across the path and a salal bush did nod itself to us. The wind made little
soft whispers, and by-and-by we was come to the log. She did kneel down
by it, and she looked looks for a long time at all the bunches of flowers.
And I did say a little prayer and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus did squeak
a little squeak. I made counts of the bunches of flowers, and they were
thirty-and-three. I saw a chipmunk, and I followed him after to see how
many stripes he did have on his back and where was his home; and on the
way I saw other birds and I followed them after on tiptoes to have sees
where they were having goes to. And in the bushes there was a little nest
with four eggs in it with speckles on them. I did have thinks there was
needs for me to pick out names for the little birds that will hatch out of
those eggs. This is a very busy world to live in. There is much needs for
picking out names for things.
I am very happy. I have been to the cathedral to pray again that the angels
will bring a baby to Dear Love soon.

CHAPTER XXIII

How Opal and Brave Horatius Go on Explores and Visit the Hospital.—
How the Mamma Dyes Clothes and Opal Dyes Clementine.

My legs do feel some tired this eventime. I’ve been most everywhere to-
day. I so have been going to tell the plant-folks and the flower-folks and the
birds about this day being the going-away day of one William Shakespeare
in 1616. Before yet breakfast-time was come, I did go to the cathedral to
say prayers of thanks for all the writings he did write. With me did go Brave
Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus
and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil.
When we were come again to the house, they did wait waits while I did
go to do the morning works. After the morning works were done, I did put
pieces of bread and butter in papers in my pockets for all of us. I put some
milk in the bottle for Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides. He was
waiting waits for me by the pasture-bars. He is a most woolly lamb. He was
glad for his breakfast and he was glad to have knows about this day. While I
was telling them all there what day this is, Plutarch Demosthenes made a
little jump onto a little stump. He looked a look about and made a jump-off.
Sophocles Diogenes came a-following after. They both did make some
more jumps. Their ways are ways of playfulness. They are dear lambs.
While I was telling them all, Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides
did in some way get the nipple off his bottle, and the rest of the milk did
spill itself out the bottle. I hid the bottle away by a rock. Menander
Euripides Theocritus Thucydides did follow me after. He does follow me

many wheres I do go to. We went all on. We saw fleurs and I did stop
moments to have talks with them. I looked for other fleurs that I had longs
to see. Everywhere that we did go I did look looks for teverin and yellow
éclaire and pink mahonille and mauve and morgeline. When Brave Horatius
had askings in his eyes for what I was looking, I did give to him
explanations. He looked looks back at me from his gentle eyes. In his looks
he did say, they are not hereabout. We went on. We went to forêt
d’Ermenonville and forêt de Chantilly. We went adown Lounette to where it
flows into Nonette—and we went on. Everywhere there were little
whisperings of earth-voices. They all did say of the writes of William
Shakespeare. And there were more talkings. I lay my ear close to the earth
where the grasses grew close together. I did listen. The wind made ripples
on the grass as it went over. There were voices from out the earth. And the
things of their saying were the things of gladness of growing. And there was
music. And in the music there was sky-twinkles and earth-tinkles. That was
come of the joy of living. I have thinks all the grasses growing there did
feel glad feels from the tips of their green arms to their toe roots in the
ground.
And Brave Horatius and the rest of us did n’t get home until after supper-
time. The folks was gone to the house of Elsie. I made a hunt for some
supper for Brave Horatius. I found some and I put it in his special dish.
Then I came again into the house to get some bread and milk. There was a
jar of blackberry jam on the cook-table. It had interest looks. Just when I
happened to be having all my fingers in the jar of blackberry-jam, there was
rumblings of distress come from the back yard. I climbed onto the flour
barrel and looked a look out the window. There near unto my chum’s
special supper-dish sat the pet crow with top-heavy appears. There was
reasons for his forlorn looks, for Brave Horatius had advanced to the rear of
Lars Porsena of Clusium and pulled out his tail-feathers.

I have had no case like this before. I felt disturbs. I had not knowings
what to do for it. I had some bandages and some mentholatum in my
pocket. I took Lars Porsena of Clusium—all that was left of him with his
tail-feathers gone—and I sat down on the steps. First I took some
mentholatum and put it on a piece of bandage. I put the piece of bandage
onto Lars Porsena of Clusium where his tail-feathers did come out. Then I
did take the long white bandage in the middle, and I did wrap it about Lars
Porsena of Clusium from back to front—in under his wings and twice on
top, so the bandage would stay in place on the end of him where his tail-
feathers came out.
Then I did make a start to the hospital. I did have wonders how long the
needs would be for Lars Porsena of Clusium to be there before his tail
would grow well again. I only did have going a little way when I did meet
with the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. He looked a look
at me and he looked a look at Lars Porsena of Clusium in my arms. Then he
did have askings why was it Lars Porsena was in bandages. I told him
explanations all about it. He pondered on the matter. Then he picked me and
Lars Porsena up and set us down on a stump. He told me there was no needs
for me to have wonders about how long the need would be for Lars Porsena
of Clusium to be in the hospital with bandages on him. He did talk on in his
gentle way of how it is birds that do lose their tail-feathers do grow them on
again. He so said and I did have understanding.
Then he did take up Lars Porsena of Clusium in his arms. And he
unwrapped him from front to back and back to front. When the bandage
was all off him, Lars Porsena of Clusium did give himself a stretch and his
wings a little shake. And I said a little prayer for his getting well and a new
tail soon. And the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice said
Amen. Then we came home.

To-day was dyeing day. The mamma dyed. She dyed clothes—old ones.
First she washed them in the tub. Then she put them in the boiler on the
stove. In the boiler was beautiful blue water. I know because I climbed on
the stove-hearth and peeked in. The mamma did n’t make this water blue
with balls like she does the rench water for the clothes on wash-days. She
made this water blue with stuff out of an envelope. I had sees of her tear its
corner off, and the blue little specks came out of that envelope in a quick
way. The specks so did come in a more hurry way when she did give the
envelope some shakes. All the clothes the mamma did carry from the wash-
tub to the boiler—all those clothes was blue when she took them out; and
afterwards the blue was yet with them and they hung upon the line. I see
them quiver blue quivers when the wind blows.
After she did hang them there on the line, the mamma did leave the boiler
of dye-blue water on the stove. And she is gone goes to the house of her
mother by the meeting of the roads. She told me to watch the house and let
the fire go out. It so is gone a long time ago, and I keep watch. The blue
water in the boiler has cold feels now. I stood upon the stove and I put my
arm way down in it, and it was coldness. First I did only touch touches on
the water with my finger. It was warmness then. That was just when the
mamma did go.
She is hours and hours gone now. I have been keeping watches of the
house like she did say for me to do when she went away. And in-between
times I have been reading reads in the books Angel Mother and Angel
Father did write in. I have been screwtineyesing the spell of words. Now I
am going to have dyeing day like the mamma did have on this morning. It
is so much of fun to lift things up and down in blue water. On wash-days
the mamma has me to do it much. She calls it renching the clothes. When
it’s blue water in a boiler, it’s dyeing them.
I have been dyeing like the mamma dyed this morning. First I did dye the
mamma’s bag of blueing balls. That bag was getting pale looks. Next I did

dip in the mamma’s clothes-pin bag. It was brownness before. I have not
sure feels yet what color it is going to be since it has had its dye. I took all
the clothes-pins out first. Then I did give them all a dip. They did bob about
in a funny way. I made whirls in the dye-blue water with my fingers, so the
clothes-pins would make some more bobs. It was very nice, standing there
on top the cook-stove watching the bobs they made in the boiler.
Then I made a start to dye handles. First I dipped in the butcher-knife
handle. Then I did give the dipper-handle a dip. I had carefuls to make it go
only half-way. Then I did give the handle of the potato-masher a dip. And I
gave the hammer-handle a dip in the dye-blue water.
Clementine came in a walk up step on the back porch. She looked a look
in. She is such a friendly Plymouth Rock hen. She walked right into our
house and came in a hop up by the dye-blue water. She so does like my blue
calico apron. She hops up on my knee when I sit down to talk to the
chickens in the chicken park. I had thinks being as she has likes for my blue
calico apron she would have likes for blue feathers; so I did give her a
gentle dip in the dye-blue water and two more. She walked right out our
front door without even a thank chuckle. I never had knows of her to do so
before. The dye-blue water was waiting waits.
Next I dipped the Plymouth Rock rooster in. He did object to being dyed
blue. He was quite fidgety. I had decides not to coax any more folks from
the chicken yard to get dyed blue feathers. I looked looks about the house
we live in. I had seeing of a box of matches the mamma did leave on a chair
in the bedroom. The mamma has said I must n’t touch a box of matches on
the cupboard shelf. And I don’t. But she did n’t say I must n’t touch them
when she leaves them on a chair. So I have took the box of matches and it
has had its dip. It has a limp feel. I have put it on the back steps to get its
form again. And all the matches that was in the box have had their dips in
the dye-blue water. I have laid them in rows on the grass to have a dry.

And now I do have thinks how nice it will be on next time when dyeing
day is come if the mamma does have seeing as how I could be helps—being
as I now do have so much knowing of the ways of dyeing. I have thinks a
big amount of helps I could be. Now while the things I have dyed do dry, I
am going goes to the cathedral to have a long service there, for this is the
borning day of Saint Louis in 1215. And many wheres there is needs for me
to go to tell the plant-folk all about this being the day of his borning. And
too it is the borning day of Oliver Cromwell in 1599, and the borning day of
Padre Martini in 1706, and it is the going-away day of Torquato Tasso in
1595. The winds sing of these. And the great pine tree is saying a poem
about this day.

CHAPTER XXIV

How the Mamma’s Wish Came True, and how Opal was Spanked for it;
and of the Likes which Aphrodite Had for a Clean Place to Live in.

In the morning of to-day, before I did eat my bowl of mush and milk for
breakfast, I did go to the cathedral to say thank prayers for the good works
of Leonardo da Vinci, for this is the day of his going away in 1519. When
after-breakfast works was done, the mamma did have me to churn. While I
did make the handle with the cross sticks on it go up and down in the churn,
I did have hearing of the little glad songs all the fleurs were singing out in
the field. When the butter was come, the mamma did take it out the churn.
She put all the little yellow lumps in a wood bowl. Then she gave to them
pats and more pats. When she got through patting the butter into its proper
form, the mamma did throw the butter-paddle over on the cook-table. She
said she hoped and wished that she would never see that butter-paddle
again. She won’t. After I heard her say that, I floated it away in the creek. It
made a nice boat. It did sail along in a bobby way. I took Solomon Grundy
with me. I just let him dabble his toes. When he is an older pig, he can wade
right out into the creek with me. His eyes did look bright to-day while I was
telling him what we was going to do when he got to be a bigger pig.
When I was come back to the house we live in, the mamma did spank
me. Then she did send me to get that butter-paddle in a hurry. It was making
bobs by the reeds by the old rail fence where the singing creek goes under
and on. I brought it back to her and then she did take and spank me again.

Now I have wonders about things—the mamma did say she wished she
would never see it again.
After I did mind the baby and sleeps was come upon it, then I did walk
into the garden. I went there to find out how much things had grown since
last time I was there. First I pulled up a bean plant. It looked a little more
big—the two peek-a-boo leaves did. After I looked close looks at it, I did
plant it again. Then I pulled up a radish. It was doing nicely and I ate it. I
forgot to give it close looks before I put it in my mouth to see how much it
did grow since that last time. After I swallowed it, I pulled up another
radish to find out. It was doing well. I put it back in the garden again and I
went to the house and got it a drink of buttermilk. I carried it out to it in the
papa’s shaving-mug. There was more drink than one radish needs, so I did
give four onions and two more radishes sips of buttermilk. And I did give to
the papa’s shaving-mug some washes in the brook, and I put it back in its
place on the shelf again. Just then the mamma had comes into the house.
And there was more spanks. The back part of me does feel sore feels. I have
thinks I will go and give geology lectures to the folks in the nursery, and too
I will sing them lullaby songs and the bird and fleur chant de fête de
grandpère of niverolle and ortolan and verdier and étourneau and nenufar
and éclaire and ulmaire and fraxinelle.

A PATH TO “EXPLORES” IN THE FAR WOODS

I so have gone goes, and the folks in the nursery was glad for food and
songs. And afterwards I went more on into the woods. There was little
whispers among the leaves. And there was a song in the tall fir tree-tops.

And a pine tree was saying a poem. I listened listens. Then I went goes on. I
saw a man coming. He did take long steps. When he was nearer come, I had
seeing it was the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice. I did go
adown the path in a more quick way. He did have seeing of my coming.
Then I did hide behind a tree. He came on. When he was near the tree he
did say, “I thought I saw someone coming. Guess I was mistaken. I think
I’ll take these splints for the hospital back to the mill.”
When I did hear him say that, I ran in a quick way back to the path. He
did n’t see me. He was looking long looks away. Then I did give his coat-
sleeve a gentle pull, and he did whistle, and he did ask me if there was
needs for splints at the hospital. And I told him all in one breath how much
needs there was. He had me to tell him all over again about the little
chicken that did have its leg hurt. And I gave him explanations how it was
Sir Francis Bacon did have his leg hurt in a real bad way, and the big folks
was going to kill him, but they gave him to me for my very own because he
was n’t any good any more.
And the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did have
understanding, and he went goes with me to the hospital that I do have for
little hurt folks, at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. While I did hold little
Sir Francis Bacon, the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did
fix the splints on his hurt leg in a gentle way. Then I did pray prayers for his
getting well soon. Brave Horatius did bark Amen—and one of the most tall
pine trees was saying a poem.

After morning’s works was done I was washing out clothes for the baby.
I thought what a nice christening robe one of the baby’s dresses would
make for one of the new baby pigs. The mamma had not thoughts that way.
When the dress was on the line, I did go by the chicken-yard to have sees
how the children of Minerva are growing. Pius VII is getting some tail-

feathers. He comes to feed from my hand every day, and he likes to go to
school in my little basket. He has not been for a whole week now, because
the last time I took him he peeped and teacher sent us home. Next day I
took Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, and they was quiet.
Last time I took them to cathedral service, Ben Jonson pecked Sir Walter
Raleigh on the head. I said prayers over them for peace between them. Then
I put one in a little box on one log and I put the other one in a little box on
the other log. The boxes was alike. To-day I had sees of these two drinking
out of the water-pan together. Peace was between them. She is a nice
mother-hen that has got all her children growed up. And little Edmund
Spenser was scratching for a worm near his little brown brother Oliver
Goldsmith. And all Minerva’s family was growing well.
I felt satisfaction feels about it, and I sat down on a log to pick out names
for the twins I am going to have when I grow up. I picked out a goodly
number of names, but I could not have decides which ones. I had thinks I
would wait a little time, and I had remembers it was time for me to be
making another portrait of Solomon Grundy. So I went around by the pig-
pen to get Solomon Grundy. I said comfort words to Aphrodite. I told her
how it was I was just taking Solomon Grundy to make a portrait of him, and
as how I was going to make it in the same way and in the same place as I
did make her portrait quite a time ago. She grunted a short grunt and then a
long grunt. Sometimes it is difficult to understand pig talk. But her next
grunt—it was very plain. It was just an invitation to make Solomon
Grundy’s portrait there by her side, and no needs of taking him out of the
pig-pen.
I told her yes, I would make his portrait right there by her, and I did bring
many brown bracken ferns after I did have the pig-pen cleaned out. Most
every day I do give the pig-pen a rake-out, and bring some clean dirt from
the garden. I have thinks pigs do have likes for clean places to live in. It
brings more inspirations to their souls. And, too, every day Aphrodite does

have likes for her feeding-trough to be scrubbed clean all over. And I have
planted ferns and fleurs all around her pig-pen. It is a very nice place, with
sweet smells of grass and fleurs. And Aphrodite was glad for the brushing I
did give her to-day.
I’ve got a brush—a nice new brush—a good new brush. It is for to brush
my pig friends. They so do need brushings. This new brush the man that
wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did get for me last time he did go to
the mill town. The pigs do like the feels the new brush does make upon
their backs. The clean feels it does give to them are pleasant to their souls.
After I did give her the brushing, I did get moss and cover the clean feed-
trough with it. That made a nice place to sit and draw Solomon Grundy’s
portrait by his mother there. I drew him lying by her side. Then I had him to
stand on his feet, and I drew one of him that way. I had it almost done.
There was a little noise. It was the step of someone going by. I had not
knows who it was. I went on drawing Solomon Grundy’s ears and his curly
tail. Then I had knows what it was. It was that chore boy come to feed the
pigs—and he poured all that bucket of swill on top the moss and Solomon
Grundy’s portrait and me.
The feels I did feel—they was drippy ones. And I did have decides to
make that other portrait of Solomon Grundy another time. I said good-bye
to Aphrodite. Then I went goes in a quick way to the singing creek where
the willows grow, to get the swill-smells off. First I did wade out a little
way. Then I sat down. The water came in a nice way up to my neck, and it
went singing on. I gave my curls wash-offs, and I did listen to the song the
creek was singing as it did go by. It was a song of the hills. Being up to my
neck made the water sounds very near to my ears. I had likes for that.
By-and-by I did have feels that I was clean again and I did have thinks I
better go get some dry clothes on, because sitting there in the singing creek
did make my clothes some wet. When I was come to the house we live in,

the mamma was gone to the house of Elsie, so I did go in. First I did give
my clothes some wring-outs by the steps, so the water would not have drips
on the kitchen floor, for the mamma has likes to keep her house very clean.
When I did have dry clothes on me, I did go to hang the wet ones on
bushes in the woods to dry. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus went with me.
Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil rode in one of my apron pockets and Felix
Mendelssohn rode in the other one. And Louis II, le Grand Condé, did have
rides in my sleeve. We was all very glad. As we went along, I had seeings
the strings I have put on the bushes for the birds was gone. We went on and
on some more. I did have looks about. I did have seeing of little wood-folks
going their ways. I watched their little moves and I had seeing of what color
they was. I made stops to tell them about this being the borning day of
Linnæus in 1707, and the going-away day of Georges Cuvier in 1832.
We went on. All things was glad. The winds did sing. The leaves did
sing. The grasses talked in whispers all along the way. I have thinks they
were saying, “Petite Françoise, l’été approche—l’été approche.” I did have
hearings to all they were so saying, as I did go along. And the little birdlings
in their cradles were calling for more to eat. And I did make a stop to watch
the mother-birds and father-birds in their comings and goings. Now are
busy times.

CHAPTER XXV

Of Many Washings and a Walk.

To-day I did take Mathilde Plantagenet to visit the girl that has no seeing.
I did tell her I would so bring Mathilde Plantagenet, and she did have joy
feels when she did have thinks about Mathilde Plantagenet coming to visit
her. Before we did start, I did give Mathilde Plantagenet a good foot-bath,
as Sadie McKibben does always take one before she goes a-visiting. Then I
did wash the neck and ears of Mathilde Plantagenet in a careful way. It took
four Castoria-bottles full of water to do so.
I have had a big problem. That’s what Sadie McKibben says when she
has had a difficulty of managing. My big problem was what to carry water
in when I go to make prepares to give my pets foot-baths and neck-and-ear
washes. I have tried thimbles to use for wash-pans when I do wash the
hands of my pets, but thimbles hold not enough of water. Often and often
again there is needs to go for more water when one does use thimblefuls at
a time. Sometimes now I do use a mentholatum jar. It holds more water
than does a thimble, but mostly now I do carry Castoria bottles full of water
when I start on my way to wash the neck and ears of my animal friends.
Sadie McKibben has gave me advice and a lard-bucket to carry those
Castoria bottles full of water in.
After I so did have Mathilde Plantagenet washed then I did dry her neck
and ears with the soft salt-sack towel that Sadie McKibben has gave to me.
After I did have her neck and ears washed and her hair rubbed down in the
way it does go, I did give her a little lump of salt. She liked that. Then I tied

the little rope around her neck that I do lead her by, and we made starts to
go visit the girl that has no seeing. When we were come to her gate, I did
open it and Mathilde Plantagenet and I went down the path to her door.
Mathilde Plantagenet went around with me to the window where I do tap
taps so she will have knows I am come.
She did rub the nose of Mathilde Plantagenet. And she was so glad to see
her. She straightway did go to bring her a salt-lump. But I told her Mathilde
Plantagenet did just have a salt-lump after her foot-bath. And I did give her
explainings as how I thought one salt-lump a day is enough for Mathilde
Plantagenet while she is yet so young. When she is older grown she may
have two salt-lumps in one day. Then the girl that has no seeing did give me
the salt-lump for her to have to-morrow. She has thinks like my thinks that
there is music in the moos of Mathilde Plantagenet. And she had asks how
was the dear baby of Elsie’s. And I told her as how I thought it would have
two tooths soon, and she said that would be interest. I had thinks so too. I
told her the mamma’s nice baby has a lot of tooths. It’s had them quite a
time long, and so has Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.
Then we all did go for a walk. With my right hand I did lead the girl who
has no seeing. With my left hand I did lead Mathilde Plantagenet. And
Brave Horatius came a-following after. As we did go along, we did have
listens to the voices of the trees and grass. The girl that has no seeing is
learning to have hearing of what the grasses say and of the waters of the
brooks that tell the hill songs. Too, she is learning to see things. She shuts
her eyes when I shut mine. We go on journeys together. We ride in a cloud
—in a fleecy white one that does sail away over the hills. We look down on
beautiful earth, and we see Nonette and Iraouaddy and Launette and forêt
d’Ermenonville and Aunette and forêt de Chantilly and Saint Firmin.
To-day, after we did have our eyes shut for quite a time long, I did open
mine just a little bit to have seeing how big that bee was that was making
such a buzz. He was quite a big bee and he was in a hurry. When he did go

on, the girl who has no seeing did have asks when was I going to bring
Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides to visit her. She said she had
thinks he must be a bigger lamb now with me giving him his bottle of milk
morning and eventime. I said he was growing more big—a little bit. He is a
very dear lamb. Then she had askings when was Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil coming to visit her. And she had wants
to know when was Lars Porsena of Clusium coming again. I did have thinks
about it and I did tell her we would all come to visit her on the fourth day
from the day that is now. And I did sing her the song of fleurs: of tante, of
myosotis, aubépine, romarin, gentiane, ulmaire, eglantier, rosagine, iris,
tulipe and éclaire. And we came home, and before we were yet to the house
we live in, we did make a stop at the cathedral for prayers, and “Hosanna in
excelsis.”

CHAPTER XXVI

Why it Was that the Girl who Has no Seeing Was not at Home when Opal
Called.

Now is the fourth day come. And we are going goes to the house of the
girl who has no seeing. All the morning hours there was works to do to help
the mamma. Afternoon is now come and we go.
We did. First I did make begins to get us all together. Brave Horatius was
waiting by the back steps. Lars Porsena of Clusium was near unto him.
Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil was under the front doorstep. Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus was back of the house in his home of sticks that he
does have likes for. I did help Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to build that
home. I had sees in the woods of how other wood-rats do have their houses
builded of sticks and some sticks and some more sticks. To-day, when I did
squeak calls for Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to come out of his house,
he did come out, and he did crawl up on my shoulder and cuddle his nose
up close to my curls.
We made a start. We went by the nursery to get Nannerl Mozart. We went
on. Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides was playing close by the
pasture-bars. He is a very jumpy lamb. He did jump a long jump to meet us
to-day, and his tail did wiggle more wiggles. We went adown the lane. We
made a stop to get Solomon Grundy, and his little sister Anthonya Mundy,
that has not got as much curl in her tail as Solomon Grundy. We went out
along the road. They were a sweet picture. I made a stop to look at them all
—some running ahead and some behind. They all did wear their pink

ribbons that the fairies did bring. Solomon Grundy and Anthonya Mundy
and Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides all did wear divides of the
ribbon that was the ribbon that dear William Shakespeare used to wear. And
they all did have joy feels as they had knows they were going on a visit to
visit the girl that has no seeing. She has love for them. And we did go in a
hurry on. I did feel a big amount of satisfaction that I have such a nice
family.
Lars Porsena of Clusium did ride most of the way on the back of Brave
Horatius. His appears are not what they were before he did lose his tail-
feathers. I am praying prayers every day for him to get a new tail soon.
When we were all come near to the house of the girl that has no seeing, we
did walk right up to the door. And I stepped three steps back and three hops
over and three steps up to the door, so she would have knows we was come.
We had knows only she would be there because this day is the going-to-
town day of her people. I stepped more steps. Brave Horatius barked more
barks for her coming. And Solomon Grundy squealed his most nice baby-
pig squeal. We did listen listens. She had not coming to the door. I sat on
the steps to wait waits. I so did for some time long. While we did have
waits, I did sing to Brave Horatius and Solomon Grundy and all of them
songs of Nonette and Iraouaddy and more songs Angel Father did teach me
to sing of birds of oncle what did have going away, of roitelet, ortolan,
bruant, épervier, rousserolle, tourterelle, farlouse, ramier, aigle, nonnette,
chardonneret, orfraie, ibis, rossignol, loriot, ortolan, ibis, sansonnet,
pinson, hirondelle, ibis, lanier, ibis, pic, pivoine, épeiche, faisan, étourneau,
roitelet, draine, ibis, nonnette, aigle, niverolle, durbec, aigle, roitelet, ibis,
étourneau, draine, ortolan, roitelet, loriot, émerillon, aigle, niverolle,
sarcelle. All my pets do have likes for those songs. To-day Brave Horatius
did bark a bark when I was done and Solomon Grundy did squeal his baby-
pig squeal again. I had wonders why she did not come.

After by-and-by I did go sit on the gate-post to wait waits. It was a long
time. A man on a horse went by. Another man went by. He had asks what
for was I sitting on the gate-post. I did tell him I was waiting waits for the
coming of the girl that has no seeing. He did look away off to the hills.
Then he started to say something but he swallowed it. He looked off to the
hills again. Then he did say, “Child, she won’t come back. She is gone to
the graveyard.”
I did smile a sorry smile upon him because I had knows he did n’t know
what he was talking about when he did say she won’t come back. It is not
often she goes anywhere, and when she does, she always does come back. I
told him I knew she would come back. I waited some more waits. Then it
was time for my pets to be going back because it would not do for the chore
boy not to find Solomon Grundy and Anthonya Mundy in the pig-pen. I will
go goes again to-morrow to see the girl that has no seeing, for I have knows
she will come again home to-night in starlight-time.
When Solomon Grundy and Anthonya Mundy did have their pink
ribbons off and was again in the pig-pen, the rest of us did have going to the
cathedral for songs and prayers. I did pray that the girl that has no seeing
may not stub her toe and fall when she comes home to-night by starlight-
time. And Brave Horatius did bark Amen.

Early on this morning I went again to the house of the girl who has no
seeing. There were little singings everywhere—sky and hills and the
willows were whispering little whispers by Nonette. I went in a quick way
down along the lane and in along the fields, until I was come near unto her
house. I cuddled Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus more close in my arms,
and I tiptoed on the grass. Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides did
make little jumps beside me. And Brave Horatius came a-following after.

I made a stop by the window that I always do make stops by and I rapped
six raps on the window-pane. Six raps means “Come on out—we are
come.” I had no hears of her steps a-coming like they always do. I put my
hands above my eyes so I could see inside the window. She was not there.
Nobody was. I did tap six more raps. She did not come.
I went on around by the lilac bush. I crawled in under it to wait waits for
her coming. Two men were talking by the fence. One did say, “It is better
so.” I had wonders what did he mean. The other man did say, “A pit tea it
was she could n’t have had a little sight to see that brush-fire ahead.” And I
had hears of the other one say, “Probably the smell of the smoke caused her
worry about the fire coming to the house, and probably she was trying to
find out where it was when she walked right into it.” And the other man did
have asks if she was con chus after. And the other one did say, “Yes.”
I listened more listens to their queer talk. I had wonders what did it all
mean. Another man did come in the gate. He came to where they was. He
put his hand on a fence-post. There was a green caterpillar close by him on
a bush, but he had not seeing of it. He did begin to talk. First thing he said
was, “When Jim went by here last even, that child was sitting on the gate-
post. She was waiting for her to come back.” He said more; he said, “Jim
told her she was gone to the graveyard, but she said she knew she would
come back.”
Why, that was what I told that man. It all did sound queer. I heard them
say some more. Then I had understanding. I had knows then it was the girl
that has no seeing they was having talks about, because I was waiting waits
for her on yesterday when the man did tell me that. I felt queerness in my
throat and I could n’t see either. I could n’t see the green caterpillar on the
leaf by the man that said it. And Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus had looks
like a gray cloud in my arms.

More the men said. They talked it all over again. They said she smelled
the smoke of the brush-fire, and not having sees of it, she did walk right
into it and all her clothes did have fire; and then she ran, and her running
did make the fire to burn her more—and she stubbed her toe and fell. She
fell in a place where there was mud and water. She was rolling in it when
they found her. And all the fire-pains that was did make her moan moans
until hours after, when she died. They say she died. And I could n’t see
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus or Brave Horatius or anything then.
When after a while I did come again the way that goes to the house we
live in, I did have sees of the little fleurs along the way that she so did love.
I have thinks they were having longings for her presence. And I so was too.
But I do have thinks her soul will come again to the woods. And she will
have sees of the blooming of the fleurs in the field she has loves for. I go
now to write a message on a leaf for her like I do to Angel Father and Angel
Mother. I will put one by the ferns, and I will tie one to a branch of the
singing fir tree. And I will pray that the angels may find them when they
come a-walking in the woods. Then they will carry them up to her in
heaven there.

CHAPTER XXVII

Of a Cathedral Service in the Pig-Pen.—How the World Looks from a
Man’s Shoulder.

In the morning of to-day, being as I could not get the fence down about
the pig-pen so Aphrodite could get out to go to service in the cathedral, I
did have decides to have cathedral service in the pig-pen.
I brought large pieces of moss and lovely ferns. I got a wood-box so
Brave Horatius could get in. After he was in the pig-pen, I did use the box
for an altar. I lay moss upon it and ferns about it. While I was fixing it Lars
Porsena did perch on my shoulder and he stayed there for service. Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus nestled by my side. Solomon Grundy and Anthonya
Mundy, who has n’t as much curl in her tail as Solomon Grundy—these lay
by their mother Aphrodite and me and all the other little pigs. I sat on a
board and Clementine did perch on the edge of the feeding-trough. In its
middle was her sister hen Andromeda. Felix Mendelssohn did snuggle up in
my right apron pocket. And in the left apron pocket was that lovely toad,
Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil.
After some long time, when we all did get settled down to quietness, I
did start service. It took a long time to get quietness because the dear folks
were n’t used to having cathedral service in the pig-pen. After the third
hymn I did preach the morning sermon. I did choose for my text: “I will lift
up mine eyes unto the hills.” I had to peek through the pig-pen fence to do
it, for it did have more tallness than I did have. I lifted most all the
congregation up to have a peek. I did lift them one at a time. And so they

saw and lifted up their eyes unto the hills, but most of them did n’t. They
looked in different ways. Some saw God’s goodness in the grass and some
did see it in the trees, and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus did not have
seeing for more than for the piece of cheese I did have hid in my sleeve for
him. He gave his cheese squeak. I gave him a nibble. Then we had prayers.

Rain is come some more. It came all night. And earth is damp again and
things grow more in the garden. Some things grow very fast. Weeds so do.
When the rain did stop having come-downs on this morning, then the
mamma did have me to hoe in between the rows of things that do grow in
the garden. As I did go along, I did have talks with these folks that grow in
the garden there. I did tell them little poems. And I did sing to them little
songs. As I did go along between the rows, Brave Horatius did follow after.
I had thinks about the things growing there. I wonder if I would get roots
like the plants in the garden, if I planted my feet some inches in the soil and
did keep still quite a time long. I have thinks I will try it some day and find
out.
As I did go on, I did have sees there were earthworms on the window-
panes over the young cabbage-plants. The grown-ups say the earthworms
rained down. They are mistaken. Those earthworms crawled up. I’ve
watched them do it. They were about in many places. I have been learning
things about earthworms. I think being an earthworm must be an interesting
life. I wonder how it feels to stretch out long and then get short again. I
went goes on, to pull weeds by the bean-folks. I went back some steps to
look looks at them. Those bean-folks in the garden are such climbers. Their
thoughts reach up toward the sky. And they climb up on the poles we put in
the garden there.
By-and-by I saw another earthworm. He was alone. I did have sees of his
movements. I always do see more earthworms after rain. This one was

making himself very long. Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil, too, did have seeing
of that earthworm. I made a stop to see what he was going to do about it. I
did see. He did walk walks around that earthworm. Then he did take it in a
quick way. It was a very big earthworm, and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil did
have needs to use his hands to stuff it down his throat. The earthworm made
wiggles, and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil gave it pushes down his throat.
In afternoon-time, when other works was done, I did take Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and Felix Mendelssohn and Lucian Horace Ovid
Virgil with me, and Louis II, le Grand Condé, did have rides in my sleeve.
We went goes to the barn. I made a stop to talk with Michael Angelo Sanzio
Raphael. Then I did go in to play on the hay. I had hearing of sounds in the
stall below. I slid a slide down into the manger of that stall. There was
someone I have never had sees of before. He had big eyes and a velvet
nose, and he was brownish. When I did land in his manger there, he did
look afraid looks. But I just sat quiet in the corner of the manger and
reached out handfuls of hay to him. I have knows he is that new saw rel
horse I have heard the grandpa at the ranch-house say he was going to get.
And now he is got. I have likes for him. I told him a poem and I did sing
him a song of fleurs de tante, of myosotis et anemone et romarin et iris et
éclaire. He did have likes for that song, and the bunches of hay I did hold
out to him. And this being the going-away day of Savonarola in 1498, I
have give this new saw rel horse for name Girolamo Savonarola. I did tell
him his name while I did give him more pats on his velvet nose. I have likes
for him.

On yesterday the coffee-pot tipped over on Harold. He had pains—worse
than when the baby has colic. Elsie puts oil on him. When she puts the oil
on him, some of his cries go under the floor and we do not hear them any
more. I feel I have needs of that oil in my hospital. Three times on this
morning I have been on goes to the house of Elsie to have asks if he is

growing well. She says his feels are better—the oil does make them so. And
I yet have more thinks then there is needs of oil like that oil in my hospital.
When I was coming back from the house of Elsie I did look looks about
as I did go along. I saw a piece of bark. I did turn it over with care. There
were ants. I made a set-down to watch them. Some ants did carry bundles
with queer looks. Big Jud at school says they are ant eggs. I have not thinks
so. They be too big for ant eggs—and I have remembers that Angel Father
did call them nymphes de fourmis.
When I was come to the house we live in, there was Lars Porsena of
Clusium walking about on the clean tablecloth that has been put on for
company. And there he was tracking crow-tracks in jam all over it. I picked
him up and the mamma picked me up, and right away she did spank me for
his doing it. The time it did take to wash that tablecloth was quite a time
long. I made little rubs on it where was the jam-tracks of Lars Porsena of
Clusium. When they was all come out, and it had clean looks that did suit
the feels of the mamma, then she did tell us to get out of her way.
We did. We went to the woods and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus went
with us. When we were come to the great fir tree, I did say a prayer. We
went on. A little way we went. Then I made a stop to print a message on a
leaf, for the soul of the girl that has no seeing. I had wants to tie it on a limb
of a tree that I could not reach up to, and there was no tree fallen against it.
While I did stand close by it, the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to
mice did come that way by. When he saw me in meditation by that tree, he
did ask me what I wanted. I told him I did have needs of being up in that
tree. He did set me on his shoulder. From there I could reach the tree-arm
that was most near earth. But before I did climb onto the limb from his
shoulder I did take long looks about in three straight ways and four corner
ways.

One does get such a good view of life from a man’s shoulder. One feels
so much more tall. I saw a mouse run under a log. I saw a mother-bird come
to her babies. I saw a toad by an old gray rock. I saw a caterpillar on a bush
close by. I saw a squirrel on a tree beyond the next bush. Then I did climb
up into the tree, and I tied the leaf with the message on it out far on a limb
high up, so the angels would have sees of it when they went flying by and
carry it up to her in heaven there.
Afterwards I did go to the house of Sadie McKibben. Lars Porsena of
Clusium and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus went goes with me. Sadie
McKibben has a new back-comb. She did have me put it in her hair for the
first time it so is in. It has crinkles on its back and it does hold her hair up
from her neck in a nice way. Sometimes Sadie McKibben does let me help
her to do up her hair. I have satisfaction feels that I can be of helps. I do roll
her hair in a roll on top of her head. It makes loop looks where some hairs
want not to be in the roll on top of her head. Then I do put the hairpins in, to
make them look like a water-wheel that the chore boy does build in the
brook. But all the times I do put Sadie McKibben’s hairpins in like a water-
wheel, her hair, it does not stay up long. Then she does smile a smile and
give her hair a quick roll. She sticks the hairpins in tight. Her hair, it does
stay up. She so did to-day. And when we came away she did give me a kiss
on both my cheeks and one on my nose. I have glad feels that she does
remember about the nose.
After I was come home I did bring the wood in and set the table. Then I
made a start to go to the ranch-house to get the milk. On the way along I
heard a little lamb bleating. It was crying for its mother. I went to look for
it. I left the path. I went to the pasture up by the woods. When I got there
the little lamb seemed to be away back in the woods. I set the milk-pail
down and ran. I ran quick. There were long gray shadows in the woods. I
felt their soft fingers touch my cheeks. I ran on. The little lamb had stopped
crying. I heard it bleat no more. Where last time it did cry, there was only

the husband of Sadie McKibben sitting on a log. I have thinks the wee lamb
did find its mother. So I came back again. And the time was not long until I
did have the milk brought to the house we live in.
Afterwards in gray-light-time I did go to the cathedral. And with me went
Brave Horatius and most all the others. We did have service and I did sing
and say thank prayers for the goodness of Grégoire VII. It was on this day
in 1085—it was then he did have going away. And this eventime there was
a song in the tree-tops at the cathedral. I have thinks it was a song of his
goodness.

CHAPTER XXVIII

How Opal Piped with Reeds, and what a Good Time Dear Love Gave
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.

Very early in the morning of to-day I did get out of my bed and I did get
dressed in a quick way. Then I climbed out the window of the house we live
in. The sun was up and the birds were singing. I went my way. As I did go, I
did have hearing of many voices. They were the voices of earth glad for the
spring. They did say what they had to say in the growing grass and in the
leaves growing out from tips of branches. The birds did have knowing, and
sang what the grasses and leaves did say of the gladness of living. I, too, did
feel glad feels from my toes to my curls.
I went down by the swamp; I went there to get reeds. There I saw a black
bird with red upon his wings. He was going in among the rushes. I made a
stop to watch him. I have thinks to-morrow I must be going in among the
rushes where he did go. I shall pull off my shoes and stockings first, for
mud is there and there is water. I like to go in among the rushes where the
black birds with red upon their wings do go. I like to touch finger-tips with
the rushes. I like to listen to the voices that whisper in the swamp, and I do
so like to feel the mud ooze up between my toes. Mud has so much of
interest in it—slippery feels and sometimes little seeds that some day will
grow into plant-folk if they do get the right chance. And some were so
growing this morning. And more were making begins. I did have seeing of
them while I was looking looks about for reeds.

With the reeds I did find there I did go a-piping. I went adown the creek
and out across the field and in along the lane. Every stump I did come to I
did climb upon. By-and-by I was come near unto the house we live in. I
thought it would be nice to go adown the path and pipe a forest song to the
mamma of the gladness of the spring. When the mamma met me piping in
the path, she did turn me about to the way that does lead to the house we
live in. She so did with switches. She made me to stop piping the song of
the forest, but it did n’t go out of my heart.
When we was come into the house, the mamma did tell me works to do,
and then she went with the little girl and the baby and some lace she was
making for a skirt for the baby, all to the house of Elsie. I did make begins
on the works. I like to be helps to the mamma. I like to sing while I have
works to do. It does so help. After I did scrub the steps and empty the ashes
and fill the wood-box and give the baby’s clothes some washes,—all as the
mamma did say for me to do,—then I made prepares to take Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus to visit Dear Love. She has kind thoughts of him,
and it is four whole days since she has seen him.
First I brought out his nice pink ribbon that the fairies did bring to him. I
hung it on a branch of willow. Then I did sit down. I had only a half a
Castoria bottle full of warm water, so I did have needs to be careful in the
use of it. First I did wash his beautiful white paws. I dried them on my
apron as I did forget to bring his little towel. Dear Love made that little
towel for him. It is like her big bath-towel. And she marked his initials on it
with red ink like Big Jud has a bottle of at school. She put a dot after each
letter. It is T. C. J. Z. on his bath-towel. When I do have thinks about that
nice little bath-towel of his, I do give his paws a wash, and if I have not the
towel with me, I do dry them with my apron.
So I did to-day, and we did go our way to the little house of Dear Love,
by the mill by the far woods. In our going we went among the great trees
along little paths between tall ferns, and we went over logs. When we were

come near unto the house of Dear Love, she did come to meet us. She gave
me two kisses, one on each cheek, and one on the nose. She so does every
time now since that day when she did give me one on each cheek and I did
tell her Sadie McKibben does give me one on the nose, too. She was so glad
to see Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. We had a very nice visit. We did sit
on an old log under a big tree, and there was some vines growing by that
log, and we did have talks. I did tell her how I was praying on every day for
her baby to come real soon. And we did see a chipmunk that has some nice
stripes on its back, and I told her I was putting it into my prayer for the
angels to bring a baby brush with blue fleurs on it, and a cradle-quilt with a
blue bow on it, when they do bring her baby, because I did have thinks a
blue fleur on its baby brush and a blue bow on its cradle-quilt would look
nicer with its red hair than pink ones would look. And she had thinks like
my thinks, and we saw a caterpillar. Some caterpillars grow into butterflies.
All caterpillars do not. Some grow into moths.
When I was coming my way home through the far woods, from the house
of Dear Love, I saw more chipmunks and I saw her husband. He was fixing
a log. His hat—it was not on him. It was on a stump a little way away. He
was most busy. His sleeves were up in a roll unto his arms’ middle. He
made bends over as he did work at that log. A little fern by his foot had its
growing up to the fringes on the legs of his overalls. The sun did come in
between the grand trees, and it did shine upon his head. I so do like to see
the sun shine upon the hair of the husband of Dear Love. I kept most still as
I did go along, and I did look looks back. The sunbeams yet did shine upon
his head.
When I did come more near unto the house we do live in, I did see a
squirrel in a chêne tree. He was a lovely gray squirrel. I came more near
unto the tree. I looked more looks at that gray squirrel sitting out on a limb.
His tail was very bushy. It had many, many hairs on it. I did look at his tail
and I did look at the tail of my beautiful Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.

The hairs he does have on his tail—they are not so many as are the hairs on
the tail of that big gray squirrel. When I did look looks from his tail to the
tail of my dear Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, I did have some wishes that
there was as many hairs on his tail as are on the tail of that gray squirrel.
While I so did think, Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus did nestle more
close in my arms, and I was glad for him as he is. He is so lovely and his
ways are ways of gentleness. We went on along the dim trail. There by the
dim trail grow the honeysuckles. I nod to them as I go that way. In the
daytime I hear them talk with sunbeams and the wind. They talk in shadows
with the little people of the sun. And this I have learned—grown-ups do not
know the language of shadows. Angel Mother and Angel Father did know,
and they taught me. I wish they were here now—here to listen with me. I do
so want them. Sometimes they do seem near. I have thinks sometimes kind
God just opens the gates of heaven and lets them come out to be guardian
angels for a little while.
I wonder if honeysuckles grow about the gates of heaven. I’ve heard they
are made of precious jewels. I have thinks there will be flowers growing all
about. Probably God brought the seed from heaven when he did plant the
flowers here on earth. Too, I do think when angels bring babies from
heaven to folks that live here below, they do also bring seeds of flowers and
do scatter them about. I have thinks that they do this so the babies may hear
the voices of the loving flowers and grow in the way of God.

CHAPTER XXIX

How Opal Feels the Heat of the Sun, and Decorates a Goodly Number of
the White Poker-Chips of the Chore Boy.

To-day I did n’t get to finish the exploration trip over the river, because
just as I was starting around the house-corner, after I did do my morning
work early, the mamma grabbed me. She did tie me to the wood-shed
corner with a piece of clothes-line. So we could n’t play together, she did tie
to another corner that very wise crow Lars Porsena of Clusium. To the
corner beyond the next corner, to the corner that was the most longways off,
she did tie him. But we played peek-a-boo around the middle corner. I’d
lean just as far over as I could with the rope a-pulling back my arms. Real
quick, I’d stretch my neck and peek and nod to Lars Porsena of Clusium.
Then he of Clusium would flutter and say, “How-do-you-do,” in squeaky
crow tones.
The day was growing warm. When it grew awful hot my arms did have
feelings too sore to lean over any more. I sat down by the wood-shed wall
and I did watch the passers-by. First went along Clementine, the Plymouth
Rock hen. Then along stepped Napoleon, the Rhode Island red rooster. By-
and-by I did hear Solomon Grundy squealing in the pig-pen. Then a
butterfly did rest on the handle of the pump where I did have longings to be.
The wee mother hummingbird never left her nest on the lower oak limb. I
could see her bill. I did have hopes Brave Horatius would come marching
by. I called and I did hear his whine afar off. Then I knew he was tied up
too.

Another Plymouth Rock hen came walking by. Over in the shade by the
old root was a canard. He did have a sleepy look. And I did have a sleepy
feel. I looked a short look at the sky. A merle was flying over. I looked
looks a-far off when I did look near. The old black cat sat on the doorstep.
He had a saucer of milk, and then he did wash his face. I would have been
partly glad if he did come over to see me. But I have n’t made up with him
since he did catch the baby robin. I forgot the cat when a snake did crawl
around the stump, one with stripes on it. I did have thinks it might at least
have come nearer, that I might count the stripes on its back. But it did go
under the house. A grasshopper came hopping along. I stuck out my foot
and he did hop over it. Through the slats of the chicken-coop I could see the
mother hen with her young ducklings. I did have longings to cuddle them in
my apron and I did want to take them down to the brook. I was having very
sad feels.
The sun got hotter and hotter. And pretty soon I did have queer feels in
the head and the middle. Then my nose did begin to bleed. I felt all choked
up and sticky. And every time I gave my head a shake to get a good breath,
my curls did get mixed up with the nose-bleed. Pretty soon the mamma
passing by did see my apron with blood upon it and she untied me. After
she did souse me in the tub under the pump I felt better. My arms did tingle
where the rope was tied.
After that I went to bed, and near suppertime the mamma did call me to
wash the stockings of the baby and the stockings of the other little girl. I
had needs to climb upon a stump to hang the stockings out to dry. Then I set
the table. While I was carrying in the wood, I did crawl under the house to
find the snake with the stripes on his back; but he was n’t there, so I don’t
know how many stripes he did have on his back. When the wood was all
stacked up in the wood-box and the kindling under the stove, the mamma
did say I might take the ducklings to the brook. That did make me very

happy. All the way to the brook I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus,
Dominus Deus, Te Deum laudamus.”

There was rosée on the verdure everywhere this morning, and the
sunbeams made all the drops to shine. And there was glory and gladness
everywhere. When I did look upon it, I did have thinks to go explores down
along Nonette and into the forêt de Chantilly. But the mamma had not
thinks like my thinks. She did tell me of the many works she did have for
me to do, and I did go to do them. But as I did go about to do them, I did
have thinks about the appears with rosée on them of the things that grow
where Nonette flows.
After the morning works was done, the mamma did have me to mind the
baby while she was making it a dress. While I did mind the baby and while
the mamma was making a dress for the baby, I made out of the piece what
was left a christening robe. I made it for a young rooster. It is n’t the first
one I have made for him. But all the others he has got too big to wear, and I
have n’t been able to catch him yet.
A little time before I did eat my bowl of bread and milk—it was a little
time before noontime—the mamma did take the little girl and the baby and
the dress she was making for the baby, and they all did go to the house of
her mother. She did have me to help her to take them, and when they were
come to the door of the house of her mother, I did come again home.
When I did eat my bowl of bread and milk, I did have thinks I would
make portraits of the folks in the pasture and pig-pen this afternoon. I did
have decides to begin their portraits, and afterwards on other days I will do
more works on them. I did make ready to go. I put more wood in the wood-
box so it would be full when the mamma came home. Then I put four white
poker-chips in my apron pocket—one is for the portrait of the gentle Jersey
cow. I will have to draw her head in a small way, so the horns can go in the

picture too. I have thinks that the people who made poker-chips ought to
have made them with more bigness, so there would be more room to put
horns on the cows’ pictures that one does draw on poker-chips. One of the
other three poker-chips I did put into my apron pocket is to draw
Aphrodite’s portrait on. And one of them is to draw Elizabeth Barrett
Browning’s picture on. And one is for someone else that does live in the
pasture. Now I go.
When I did get these pictures made, I did take them to a log in the near
woods that has got a hollow place in it. There is room in this log for me to
take naps in on rainy days, and in this log I do keep the white poker-chips
with pictures on them. In this log I do have a goodly number of white
poker-chips in rows, with portraits on them of the animal folks that do dwell
here about. All my chums’ pictures are there. There are five of Mathilde
Plantagenet on three poker-chips. And there are seven of William
Shakespeare that I did draw in automne and hiver time. And, too, there are
six of dear Peter Paul Rubens that was.
And now four more portraits did go in the rows to-day. There are nine
more white poker-chips in a little pile under the root of a stump close by the
old log. These nine white poker-chips are waiting waits to have portraits
made on them. When I do get portraits made on most all the white poker-
chips I do have, then one of the logging men at the mill by the far woods
does give me more white poker-chips to draw more pictures of Aphrodite
and Elizabeth Barrett Browning and all of us on.
The chore boy does have objects to my drawing pictures on his poker-
chips that he does hide in the barn. It was one day when I was walking
around exploring in the barn and singing songs to William Shakespeare and
the gentle Jersey cow—on that day, and then I did find the poker-chips of
the chore boy where he did hide them away. I had not knows whose they
were, but the white ones all did lay there in a heap having askings for
pictures to be drawn on them. So I did take some of them and I did make

portraits of Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, and Louis II, le Grand Condé,
and Brave Horatius. Then I did put them back in their places again. The day
that was after that, I did take some more and I did make portraits on them.
On them I did make portraits of Lars Porsena of Clusium and Lucian
Horace Ovid Virgil and Nannerl Mozart and Felix Mendelssohn. Then I did
carry them back to their place in the barn. They did look satisfaction looks
there in that corner with portraits on them.
Then next day, when I was going down our lane by the barn, the chore
boy did come by the gate. When I came through, he did give my curls a
pull. He did say in a cross way, “What for did you mark up my nice poker-
chips with your old pictures?” Then I did have knows they were his poker-
chips there in the barn. I did tell him the white ones had wants to have
portraits on them and it was to give them what they had wants for. I told
him he better draw pictures on what white ones was left that did not have
pictures on. I had thinks they would be lonesome.
But the chore boy did not have thinks like my thinks. He said he had
more knows what poker-chips want than I have thinks. He says poker-chips
want to be on a table in a game with men. I have thinks he has not knows
what he is talking about. I have knows white poker-chips do have wants for
portraits to be drawn on them—portraits of Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus
and Brave Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium and all the rest.
After I did put the four new portraits in the old log, I did follow a path
that leads to a path that leads to a path that goes to the house of Elsie. I so
went because I did have a little longing to rock again the baby’s cradle.
Elsie was making for her young husband a whipped-cream cake. He has
such a fondness for them. And she does make them for him as often as there
is cream enough. She was stirring things together in the most big yellow
bowl. She did stir them in a quick way.

While she so did, the baby did have a wake-up. She said I might rock it
in its cradle. I went in a quick way to do so. I did give its cradle little
touches on its corner with my fingers, and it did rock in a gentle way. As the
cradle so did rock back and forth in that gentle way, I did sing to the dear
baby in it a little song. I did sing to it le chant de fleurs that Angel Father
did teach me to sing of hyacinthe, éclaire, nenufar, rose, iris et dauphinelle
et oléandre et romarin, lis, eglantier, anemone, narcisse et souci. I did sing
it four times over, and the baby did go to sleeps again. I do so love to watch
it in its cradle.
Afterwards I went to look for thoughts. Every day now I do look for
thoughts in flowers. Some times they are hidden away in the flower-bell—
and sometimes I find them on a wild rose—and sometimes they are among
the ferns—and sometimes I climb away up in the trees to look looks for
them. So many thoughts do abide near unto us. They come from heaven and
live among the flowers and the ferns, and often I find them in the trees. I do
so love to go on searches for the thoughts that do dwell near about.

CHAPTER XXX

How Opal and the Little Birds from the Great Tree Have a Happy Time
at the House of Dear Love.

When I was come home from school this afternoon, first I did go to the
wood-shed to carry in wood. I saw there was some new bran in the bran-
sack-box. That box is a big box. I make climbs up on it sometimes to have
thinks. And Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus makes a climb up too. Then I
get down and make a pile of wood high enough so Brave Horatius can
make a jump climb up. We have likes for that big bran-sack-box. Jenny
Strong says why we do have likes for that box is because it is a hard box to
get up on. But we do get up on it often. Sometimes I do eat my bowl of
bread and milk for supper there on the bran-sack-box.
There is another box in the wood-shed. In that other box is a sack of
wheat. In morning-time a little bit of it goes with the scraps to feed the
chickens. In evening before gray-light-time more wheat from that sack goes
to feed the chickens. And the chickens do have likes for that wheat from
that sack in that box. I strew it on the ground for them in swings. I swing
my arm a long swing and then a short swing. When I do swing it a long
swing the wheat goes far. When I swing it a short swing it goes not so. It
goes only a little ways. To-day I did swing my arm four long swings and
three short swings and two more long swings. The chickens were glad to
have it so. They did pick up that wheat in a hurry way.
Then I went into the kitchen to get the egg-turner to pat the dirt down
good around that tomato plant that’s been dabbling its toes in the brook and

is now planted again. Just when I got it most patted down right, so it looked
real proper—just then the mamma stepped behind me. She turned me over
her knee. She would n’t listen to explanations. She just applied that egg-
turner to the back part of me. Now I feel too much sore to sit down, so I
lean over a stump to print this. I have thinks I will go goes to the house of
Dear Love.
I so did. I went through the near woods and into the far woods. In my
going I went by where the man of the long step that whistles most all of the
time does gather ferns for the pensée girl with the far-away look in her eyes.
There little ferns grow tall and big ferns grow very tall. And sunbeams and
shadows are among them before gray-light-time. It is the same place where
the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice did dig up little ferns
to make fern wishes to the fairies when I put letters in the moss-box by the
old log. But now we dig not up little ferns here. We find them in another
place. We have feels the fairies would like it, and these ferns grow there for
the pensée girl with the far-away look in her eyes. Often it is now she is
come to visit her aunt of the gray calico dress with a black bow at its neck.
After I did say a little prayer at the growing-place of the little tall ferns
and the very tall ferns, I did go on. I went on along a winding path that goes
in between old logs. I went a little way. I did hear a little squeal. I did look
looks about. There was Solomon Grundy coming after me just as quick as
he could come. His little legs did bring him in a quick way. I made a stop to
wait for him. He was joys all over when he did come up by me. He did
jump upon me. And his squeals were squeals of gladness. Then we did go
on together. We went on. As we so did, I did sing to him one of the songs
Angel Father did teach me to sing. Every day I do sing him one of them.
To-day I did sing him un chant des fleurs, de fête, d’oncle, of souci et
eglantine et pensée et tulipe et quintefeuille et ulmaire et apalachine et
tournesol et romarin et éclaire. He did grunt grunts in-between times.

When we were come to the house of Dear Love, they were standing by
the steps. The husband of Dear Love did bring home to her a little nest that
was in a tree that they did fall in the far woods to-day. The nest it was a
long nest. Its longness was very long. I have thinks when the wind did go
through the woods sometimes this cradle did swing. Its largeness was so
long. The husband of Dear Love did think these little birds were most ready
to fly from the nest when the tree did fall to-day. All the six little birds but
one did get death as the tree did fall. They were such little things when we
did take them out. The one live one was hungry. And we did feed him. We
did feed him little bits at a time—a little bit of egg that was left in the
dinner-pail of the husband of Dear Love, did give to this little bird some
satisfaction feels. Dear Love did cuddle it warm in her hands, and her
husband did make the piece of egg into little divides for me to give to it. It
did open its mouth most wide.
When I so did see it do, I did open my mouth too, like it did. The
husband of Dear Love did laugh. I did have asking of him why he did
laugh, for it was not thoughtful to laugh at the little hungry bird that did
have so hungry feels and lonesome ones. He did say in his gentle way that it
was not at the little bird he did laugh. He did say he just did laugh
sometimes when he had thinks about things at work. I told him it was nice
he had thoughtfuls of the nest that they saw in the tree after it did fall. He
said he thought of me and that made him think it would be nice to bring the
nest home, and he broke off another piece of egg for the little bird. And
more he so did. And every time I did drop a piece of egg into the mouth of
the little bird, I did open my mouth wide, too, from seeing the bird do it.
When it was full of satisfaction feels, Dear Love did fix it all up nice in a
warm little box. She is going to give it careful cares so it will grow up. She
has asked me to pick out a name for it. I am so going to do. And to-morrow
I am going to have the funerals of the other five little birds that did get
death as the tree did fall. Dear Love gave me white soft pieces to wrap them

in and the husband of Dear Love says he will make the tombstones for their
graves. I am going to bury them at Dreux by Blaise. There will they rest. On
to-morrow it so will be.
To-night when I was come home, I took the pillow from my bed to sit on
at the supper-table because the back part of me did feel so sore from that
spanking the mamma gave me with the egg-turner out in the garden to-day.
After supper-time I did have seeing out the window of the night. It was
calling, “Petite Françoise, come, petite Françoise.” I went. Brave Horatius
followed after. We went adown the path. A big silver yellow ball was
coming up over the hill. We made a stop. I did climb on a rock to watch its
coming. Brave Horatius put his nose by my hand. I gave him pats. He
looked up at me. I told him, “C’est la pleine lune.” We went on. We went on
to the hill where its coming was.

CHAPTER XXXI

How Lola Wears her White Silk Dress at Last.

Lola has got her white silk dress that she did have so much wants for,
and it has a little ruffle around the neck and one around each sleeve like she
had wants for it to have. It is nice she is a great lady now. She so did say at
school she would be a great lady when she did have her white silk dress on.
And, too, at school she did say the children would gather around her and
sing, and they did. And she did say at school, when the children would
gather around her and sing when she does have her white silk dress on—she
did say then she would stand up and stretch out her arms and bestow her
blessing on all of them like the deacon does to the people in the church in
the mill town—but she did n’t. She did n’t even raise up her hands. She
staid asleep in that long box the whole time the children was marching
around her and singing “Nearer My God to Thee,” and more songs. She did
just lay there in that long box with her white silk dress on and her eyes shut
and her hands folded and she was very still all the time.
Her sister did cry. I did walk up to her and touch her hand where she did
sit in the rocking-chair. I did have asks if it was a white silk dress she was
having wants for, too. And she patted my hand and I told her maybe she
would get a white silk dress soon too, and how nice it was Lola did have
hers, what she had wants for—and the ruffles in its neck and sleeves. And
Lola’s sister did pat me on the head and went out to her kitchen, and I did
go out of doors again.

And there was Brave Horatius by the steps, and I saw a yellow butterfly
and a little way away there was a mud-puddle. By the mud-puddle was a
guêpe. She came. She went. Every time she did come she did take a bit of
mud. I did watch. When she was gone away, a little hole was where she did
take the mud. She did make comes again. It was for mud she did come
every time. Last time I did follow after. It was a difficulty—the following
after. She was so little a person and the way she did go, it was a quick way.
And I had seeing she was making a cradle of mud for a baby guêpe to be.
Then I went a little way back. I saw a white butterfly. I have wonders if
Lola will wear her white silk dress to school when fall time is come. I saw
one more white butterfly. I looked more looks about. Among the grasses on
a little bush there was a katydid. And its green was a pretty greenness. Its
wings, they were folded close. And it was washing its front feet. I have
thinks katydids do keep their feet most clean. They do wash them again and
more times. I so do like to keep watches of the way the katydid does clean
its face with its front foot. I have thinks to be a katydid would be an interest
life.
Brave Horatius and me looked looks away. We did see the little pond. We
went goes to it. Little white fleurs were along the way. I have wonders if
Lola will wear her white silk dress when at school they do play London
Bridge is falling down. When we was come to the little pond I lay myself
down close to its edge. I did look looks into the pond. I saw things there.
There were sky-clouds in the water. I saw a crayfish come from under a
rock. I saw minnows all about. First they were still. Then they made moves
about. I saw a little cradle of tiny stones. It was about an inch long. While I
did look looks at it, it walked off. Then me and Brave Horatius did go on
explores to the near woods.

CHAPTER XXXII

Of the Ways that Fairies Write, and the Proper Way to Drink in the Song
of the Wood.

When morning works was done, then I did go calling on the folks that
wear sun-bonnets. I thought I better keep my sun-bonnet on my head, being
as I was going calling on sun-bonnet folks. First I went to the garden to visit
the pea family. I shook hands all down the row and back up the other row.
Then I went to call on their neighbors the beans. And I saw a rabbit in the
garden near unto the cabbages. I went a little nearer. I went to see who it
was. It was Madame Lapine. She is a gentle woman and her ways are quiet
ways, and she does have a fondness for bits of apple. Whenever I do have
an apple I do save bits for her. Too, she likes cabbage, and I have showed
her the way into the garden to get it when I am not there to get it for her.
To-day, after I did have talks with most all the folks in the garden and
after, I did tell them about this day being the crowning day of Louis XIV in
1654 and the going-away day of Robert de Bruce in 1329; then I did go out
across the fields to have talks with Aphrodite and Solomon Grundy and
Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael. Then it was I saw the chore boy near unto
the barn. He had a long stick. He was knocking down the homes of the
swallows. There were broken cradles on the ground, and there were grown-
up swallows about with distresses in their flying. That did make me to have
so sad feels. I did tell him how dear are swallows, but he would have no
listens.

Afterwards I did go goes to the house of Sadie McKibben. As I did go
along I did have seeing of a little thing in the road ahead. It was a very little
thing and it made little moves. They were only flutterings. It went not away
from where it was. I did go in a hurry on. When I was come to it, I did have
seeing it was a little bird. It was a little bird that was hurt by the step of a
cow. I have thinks it was making a try to make a go across the road. I
cuddled it up and I felt feels in my apron pocket and there was some
mentholatum. And I give it some applys and we went to the hospital. And I
put it there on moss in a little soap-box room where nothing can come and
bring it more hurts. And it did have likes for the water I gave it to drink in a
thimble, and more likes it did have for the food I gave it to eat. I named it
William Makepeace Thackeray.
Then I did go goes on to the house of Sadie McKibben, and Brave
Horatius and Lars Porsena of Clusium went goes with me. Lars Porsena of
Clusium did ride part ways on the back of Brave Horatius. When we was
come to the house of Sadie McKibben, she was having troubles. Just when
she did have her clothes all hung out, then the clothes-line did break and
they all had falls on the ground. While she did gather them up, she did have
talks to herself. She did say, “’Tis a folly to fret; grief’s no comfort.” When
her bread gets burns in the oven and the chickens bother on the porch and
the clothes boil over on the stove and everything seems to go wrong, Sadie
McKibben has a way of saying, “’Tis a folly to fret; grief’s no comfort.”
While she was giving more wash-outs to them clothes that did have a fall
while the clothes-line did break, she did sing. She sings on days when
sunshine is. She sings on days when rain is. Sadie McKibben always sings
before the summer rain as does the robin.
To-day, when she did have them clothes part hung on the line again, then
it was the man that wears gray neckties did come by on his way to the mill
town. He had asks if there was anythings she was having needs of that he
could bring back. And she did say bacon and some soda and some more

things what she had needs of for to cook with. While she told him, he did
write it down. I breathed a big breathe when I did see him write it down, for
he does write in the way that the fairies write. I said, “Oh!” He did turn
himself around. He did say, “What is it, little one?” And I did tell him all in
one breath. I did tell him, “Oh, it’s that you write in the way the fairies write
that do put things for me by the old log where the moss-box is.”
Then he did smile and he looked a long look out the door. I have thinks
he was thinking of the long-ago time when the fairies did teach him to write
their way. When he did start to go, I heard him say to Sadie McKibben, “I
guess I will have to change my writing.” I most slipped off the chair I was
setting on the edge of. I had feels I better speak to him about it. I had feels
of the sorry feels the fairies would feel when they had knowing he was not
going to write in the way they did teach him to write. When he did tell me
good-bye I did say, “Please don’t change your writing because you write the
way the fairies do. I have thinks the way they write is lovely.”
And he did smile his gentle smile. Then I did tell him how sorry I knew
the fairies would feel if he wrote not on in their way. Then he did say he
guessed it would be a pretty hard thing—trying to write another way from
what the fairies did teach him to write. I have thinks it would so be. And to-
night in my prayers I will thank God the fairies did teach the man that wears
gray neckties and is kind to mice to write in their way. It is a very beautiful
way. Some of the letters are like ripples on the water. I have longings to
write as the fairies write.
First thing I did do on the morning of to-day was to go to prayers in the
cathedral. When I was come again to the house we live in, I did eat my
breakfast. For breakfast I do eat a bowl of bread and milk. Then I did give
the back porch a sweep-off. That made its appears better. Then I did go to
feed the chickens, and after that I did go to feed the folks in the nursery.

The caterpillars do eat so much. They do get hungry feels inside them
most often. When I did have them well fed on this morning, I did make tries
to get some of them into their christening robes so that they can be
christened before they do grow more old, and before they do grow too big
to wear their little christening robes. The matter of making christening robes
for caterpillars, it is not a difficult one. The difficulty is to get a frisky
caterpillar to keep still while one is putting on his christening robe. And
then it is a problem to keep it on after one does get it on. I do have much
troubles with caterpillars crawling out of their christening robes after I do
get them on.
Before I did get five caterpillars into their christening robes I did hear the
mamma calling. She did have needs of me. I ran a quick run to the house.
When I did walk in the door, I did hold up my dress. Now the mamma
makes me raise up my dress when I come into the house so she can get a
good look at my underskirt all around. She does it to see if I have any
animals about me in the pockets I pin on my underskirts. The mamma
objects to my bringing animals into the house. In the days of now I am real
careful not to be bringing in my friends in these pockets when the mamma
is at home. This morning she did look satisfaction looks when she saw not
an animal in the pockets I have pinned onto my underskirt.
When I was walked in she did send me again to get wood. She did want
the wood-box filled with wood. Sometimes it takes an awful long time to
fill the wood-box. The longest time is when I am in a hurry to go on
exploration trips. While I did pile the wood in, I did whisper my feels about
it all to Felix Mendelssohn, that was hiding up my sleeve. Then the mamma
said if I was born her child, I would n’t have had this longing to go on
exploration trips. Then she did send me to pick elderberries. She did tell me
to scoot up the tree in a hurry. I did so. When I was up in the tree, I did not
hurry so to get the berries. I took looks about. I looked to the divides in the
road and away to the blue hills. Then I sat on another limb and looked looks

more near. I did watch the little pond. In the pond is a lily. The lily is a
yellow lily and it floats upon the water. It does float upon the water like a
little sky-star. Maybe it was a little one that did have longings to cuddle in
among the raindrops that do come together in the pond. I wonder how it
came to be. I would like to know.
In the pasture by the pond I did see a mother sheep. I think it must be
nice to be a sheep—to be a mother sheep and have a little lamb. Children
are such a blessing. When I did have my pail half full of berries, I did stop
to pick out names for the twins I am going to have when I grow up. I did
pick out sixteen names and then, being as I could not make decides between
them, I did have decides to pick out names for them some other day. And I
did begin at once to get that pail all full of elderberries.
When that was come to pass, I set the pail on a little stump. Brave
Horatius stayed to guard it, and I did go the way that leads to the hill-top. I
did have longings to dance. Most every day I do dance. I dance with the
leaves and the grass. I feel thrills from my toes to my curls. I feel like a bird
sometimes. Then I spread my arms for wings. And I go my way from stump
to stump and on adown the hill. Sometimes I am a demoiselle flitting near
unto the water. Then I nod unto the willows and they nod unto me. They
wave their arms and I wave mine. They wiggle their toes in the water a bit
and I do so too. And every time we wiggle our toes we do drink into our
souls the song of the brook—the glad song it is always singing. And the
joy-song does sing on in our hearts. So did it to-day. And afterwards when I
did go to get my pail of elderberries, they were gone. They were gone only
a little way. Brave Horatius did have feelings those elderberries ought to be
going to the house we live in. So he did make starts with them. When I did
catch up with him he did have the pail-handle in his mouth. He was going
in a slow way. And only a few elderberries did spill out. I have thinks they
did roll out when he took the bucket off the stump.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Of the Death of Lars Porsena of Clusium, and of the Comfort that Sadie
McKibben can Give.

The waters of the brook lap and lap. They come in little ripples over gray
stones. They are rippling a song. It is a gentle song. It is a good-bye song to
Lars Porsena of Clusium. The time now is when there is no Lars Porsena of
Clusium. It was only on yesterday. It was near eventime, when the mamma
was gone to the house of her mother. I was making a go across the corn
field to see the tree-folks in the lane. Brave Horatius did follow after me.
Lars Porsena of Clusium was going on a way ahead. His movements did
look queer with his tail-feathers not growed out yet. He went on. He came a
little way back to see if we were coming. Then he started on in a hurry way.
I was watching him with joy feels in my heart. I was having thinks how
nice it would be when he does get his new tail-feathers all growed out.
Brave Horatius did give a queer bark, and he pulled the corner of my
apron. I looked looks about. There the chore boy was in a corner of the corn
field with a gun. He was pointing it out on the field. I had thinks he had not
seeing of my dear Lars Porsena out there. I ran a quick run to keep him
from pulling that thing on the gun that makes the noise and pains. I hollered
hollers at him about Lars Porsena of Clusium crossing the cornfield. When I
was come to where the chore boy was, I did tell him he must not shoot that
old gun—a ball in it might go as far as my dear Lars Porsena of Clusium.
He just laughed a laugh, and he said—he did—that Lars Porsena was
nothing but a crow. And then he pointed that gun right at my own dear Lars

Porsena of Clusium. The noise was a big awful cal lamb of tea. I had feels I
was killed dead when I saw him fall. I ran a quick run. When I was come to
him, I found he was making little flutterings. When I did go to pick him up,
he was wet with much blood. I felt the shivers of his pains. I wrapped my
apron around him so he would not have cold feels. There was much wetness
upon my apron as I did go along. It was wetness of blood. The sky was
more gray, and before I was come to the house we live in, the raindrops
were coming down in a slow, sad way. I have thinks the sky was crying
tears for the hurts of Lars Porsena of Clusium. And I was too.
I had longs for the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice to be
come back again. He and other mill folks and Dear Love and her husband
and Sadie McKibben and her husband are all away gone until to-morrow
even-time. I had not knows what to do for Lars Porsena of Clusium. This
was not like that time he lost his tail. I did cuddle him up close in my arms,
and I washed off some of the blood, but more and more came. And sleepy
feels were upon him. I wrapped my apron more close around him, and I did
sing songs to him about Ave Maria and “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus
Deus.”
After the mamma was gone to bed and sleeps, I did take Lars Porsena of
Clusium to bed with me. He was so sleepy. I cuddled him up in my arms
and we both did go to sleep, for tired feels was upon us. When I had wake-
ups early on this morning, my own dear Lars Porsena was very cold and he
was very dead and stiffness was upon him. I did have queer feels in my
throat and pain feels all up and down me. I so did want him alive again, to
go explores. When the mamma was most awake, I climbed out the bedroom
window with him in a quick way. I went on. I did go until I was come to the
lane. And I did go on down our lane until I was come to the tall fir tree,
Good King Edward I. I lay Lars Porsena of Clusium near unto Good
King Edward I, and I said a little prayer and I covered him over with moss.

I now go to have his funeral at Dreux. Brave Horatius too does wait
waits, and quiet is upon him. He has longs for Lars Porsena of Clusium to
come perch on his back. And the winds are calling, and between the callings
of the wind the willows do call down by the creek. They beckon and call to
the soul of Lars Porsena of Clusium.
The clouds go slow across the sky. The water goes slow in the brook. No
one seems to be in a hurry. Even the wind walks slow. I think she wears a
silk robe to-day. I can hear its faint rustle. I think the wind is dreaming too.
With the whispering leaves she sings a dream-song. This is a dream-day. I
stopped in the dusty road and looked a long while at the sun. It was round
and a bright shining. Then for a little time afterwards, everywhere I looked I
saw a tiny bright shining, and there was a queer feeling in my head.
When I was come to the field, Savonarola did look like the flies were
giving him some bothers. I took my apron and shooed some of them off. I
could only reach a little way up. I have thinks it did help some. The chore
boy did not come for some long time. While Savonarola waited his coming,
I did give him some more fans with my apron. I had longings for the papa’s
newspaper. I had thinks I could make that go more far up than I could make
my apron go. First I did stand on one side of Savonarola and shake my
apron at the flies. Then I did stand on the other side of him. Those flies
were most lazy. They did n’t want to make moves at all. While I did make
tries to make the flies make moves away, I did sing a song of fleurs of
grandmère, of fraxinelle, romarin, anemone, narcisse, cornope, oléandre,
iris, souci, eglantier, marguerite, aubépine, renoncule, immortelle, éclaire,
anemone, myosotis, eglantier, lys, iris, éclaire, dauphinelle, ornithogale,
romarin, lys, eglantier, anemone, narcisse, souci, to Savonarola. Then I
went to get him a drink in my little bucket that I do hide by the willows. He
had likes for that drink of cold water and some more. When that chore boy
was most come I did give Savonarola good-bye pats on his velvet nose.

Afterwards I did go goes down by Launette and on to Nonette where the
willows grow. I did print a message on a leaf. It was for the soul of Lars
Porsena of Clusium. I left it on a willow branch with a little prayer that his
soul would have finding of it.
Then I did make begins to get ready for Aphrodite’s foot-bath. She has
needs for one most every day. And most days she does get it. I do fill seven
Castoria bottles full of water. Then I put their corks in, and all of them that
will go into the lard-pail I do so put in. Too, I have a little brush to brush her
feet with while I do give them splash-water baths out of the Castoria
bottles. Aphrodite has likes for foot-baths, and some days she does have
likes for the shower-baths I do give to her out of the little flower-sprinkler. I
give her back brushes and then some more showers from the flower-
sprinkler. That flower-sprinkler I did write to the fairies for. I put the letter
in the moss-box by the old log where I do put other letters for the fairies.
The time it was not long until the fairies did leave this flower-sprinkler for
it. I water the wild flowers after warm days and I water the plants that do
grow in the garden. I can almost hear the tomato-plants say, “We were
waiting for you,” every time I do give them sprinkles. And the cabbage-
plants have likes for them, too. To-day, after I did give shower-baths to
Aphrodite and Solomon Grundy and his sister Anthonya Mundy that has not
got as much curl in her tail as has Solomon Grundy, then I did give shower-
baths to some more folks.
Afterwards I went to the cathedral to have service there, for this is the
going-away day of Good King Edward I in 1307. Brave Horatius went with
me and so did Minerva. She wore her cap with ruffles on it like the
morning-cap of Jenny Strong. Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides
walked by my side. And too Sir Francis Bacon went with us. His leg has
well feels a long time now, but he walks not as other chickens walk. He has
likes to go to cathedral service, and so has Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus.

To-day after I did sing, “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Dominus Deus,” then
we all did go goes to the house of Sadie McKibben. When we was come
near unto it, there was Sadie McKibben on the big gray rock under the old
fir tree. Her hands made quick moves with needles—the kind that knit. She
was knitting socks for the man that is her husband and does live at her
house. I sat down on the ground beside her. She had on her blue gingham
apron with the cross stitches on it. I did make counts of thirty cross stitches
on that apron to-day. Some day I will count them all. There were some
grasses growing close to the gray rock, and their little fingers did touch the
cross stitches on the blue gingham apron of Sadie McKibben. I have thinks
they too would like to cuddle up to Sadie McKibben.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Of the Fall of the Great Tree, and the Funeral of Aristotle.

To-day was a long work-day. When afternoon-time was come, the
mamma was worried because the cream was n’t sour enough to churn, and
she wanted to get it churned before supper-time. I wanted to help her. I feel
so sorry for her when the worry lines come on her face. They make her look
tired. While she was taking a nap by the baby on the bed, I tried to think
how I could help her. By-and-by, after a time not very long, I thought of a
way. I got a lemon and cut it in two with the butcher-knife. Then I took the
lid off the big churn. I squeezed those lemons lots of times into the cream.
Then, when they would n’t leak any more juice out, I put the rinds in for a
finishing touch, just like the mamma puts them into the lemonade after she
has squeezed all the squeeze out. I feel better now. I know when the
mamma awakes, joy will be hers when she sees the cream is sour enough to
churn.
But the feels the mamma did have when she had wake-ups—they was not
joy feels; and the feels I now have are sore feels on the back part of me.
While I did mind the baby, there was an odd sound like someone crying a
great way off. The mamma says, “I wonder what it is.” I know it is the
death-song of that gray fir tree they are falling this afternoon. Sleeps is
come upon the baby. The mamma says for me to get out of her way. I go
now goes to the woods.
I did. I went on to where its growing was. It reaches up and up—most
away to the clouds. Days have been when I did sit by it to have thinks. And

Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus has gone goes there with me, and Brave
Horatius has waited waits while I did say prayers by that great tree. And I
have told it all the things I am going to do when I grow up. I have told it
about the books I am going to write about wood-folks and them of the field,
and about the twins I want when I grow up, and the eight other children.
And always I have read to this great fir tree the letters I have wrote and put
in the big log for the fairies to take to grandmère and grandpère. And night-
times I have heard the little wind-song among its arms most near to the sky,
and I have almost touched the big gray shadow with velvet fingers that
stays close by it at night-time.
And to-day there I did watch and I did hear its moans as the saw went
through it. And I sat down on the ground. There was a queer feel in my
throat and I could n’t stand up. All the woods seemed a still sound except
the pain-sound of the saw. It seemed like a little voice was calling from the
cliffs. And then it was many voices. They were all little voices calling as
one silver voice come together. The saw—it did n’t stop—it went on
sawing. Then I did have thinks the silver voice was calling to the soul of the
big fir tree. The saw did stop. There was a stillness. There was a queer sad
sound. The big tree did quiver. It did sway. It crashed to the earth.

Yesterday was the day of the funeral of Aristotle. He died of eating too
many mosquitoes. Now I have not three pet bats. I only have two pet bats—
Plato and Pliny. And they are like mice with angel wings. I have likes to
watch Pliny scratch his head with his hind-foot, and he does use a part of
his wonderful stretchy wing for a washcloth. I have lonesome feels about
Aristotle being gone. I go now goes to the garden to get turnips for supper.
I did. And I give to them washes in the brook. When I did take them in to
put them on the cook-table, the mamma and the grandma was talking about
the garden. The mamma did wonder where that third cabbage-head was

gone. I did n’t. I know. It is up the brook a ways dabbling its toes in the
water. I dug it up this morning and put it there. To-night I shall plant it again
in the garden. It will have had a glad day dabbling its toes in the brook. That
does give one such a nice feel.
I have been sitting on a high stump looking looks to where is the road.
Now the sun shines yellow and many flowers bloom yellow along the road.
When I grow up, I’m going to write a book about the folks that wear the
sunshine color. I have printed some prints for its begins.
When I was coming back from the stump, I saw a spider. I stopped to
watch him. He walked on his web. There was a mosquito in the web. I
thought I would take that mosquito to Pliny to eat. Before I could get to it,
that spider ate that mosquito up. I came a come as near unto the chêne trees.
I saw the black cat coming in a creep along. He was coming more near unto
the little squirrel that had no seeing of his coming. I ran a more quick run. I
hollered a little holler. The little squirrel did make a start to make a run. The
cat did make a jump. I so did too. The cat did begin to make a quick run. I
so did too. I fell over a little root. That helped some because, when I fell, I
did catch the tail of that old black cat. I pulled it most hard. He did drop the
little squirrel and made objects to my pulling his tail so.
Then I did get the baby squirrel. It was most killed, but it was not killed
dead. I did cuddle it up in my hands and we did go the way that does go to
the hospital. I have mentholatumed it and named it Geoffroi Chaucer, and I
have told it about this being the day of the going-away of Innocent III in
1216. Now I go goes to the cathedral to say thanks for his borning and all
the good he did do, and to pray for the angels to bring a new baby to the
mamma and the papa when comes Easter-time.

CHAPTER XXXV

How the Man of the Long Step that Whistles Most of the Time Takes an
Interesting Walk.

One of my tooths is loose and a queer feel. This morning, after I did
come back from prayers in the cathedral with Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus, it was then I did have feels of that tooth. It was funny feels—its being
loose. After I did eat some of my mush, I did go to the string-box and I
pulled out a string. It was a white one. There was lots of white strings in
that box, and a pink one and a green one. I put the white string back and I
pulled out the green one. It was long—very long—feets long. I did tie one
part of it around my tooth with carefuls. Then I did come a walk over to
where the broom stands behind the back door. I did tie the other end of the
long green string to the broom-handle. And I kept hold of the middle of the
string in my hand so when the broom had falls it would n’t give a bump to
my tooth when it did pull it out. I went a walk off. The tooth did n’t come
out. The green string did just have a slip off the broom-handle.
I carried the string in a careful way while I did go to bring in the wood
and other morning works the mamma did want done when she went away to
the grandma’s house. When the works was done, then I tied that string to
the door-knob. I started to walk off. Then I came back a ways. I decided to
wait a little while. I walked off again. I got most far enough to get it jerked
out. Then I thought I’d wait until after dinner. I took the string off my tooth,
but I left it on the door-knob to remind me to do it after dinner. Now I go.

And I went goes to the woods with Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and
Louis II, le Grand Condé. And there I met a glad surprise. To-day the fairies
did bring more color pencils to the moss-box by the old log. I had finding of
them in the afternoon of to-day. There was a blue one and a green one and a
yellow one and a purple one, and more there was too. I looked looks at
them, and I climbed up into the tree that is close by the old log. I climbed
up to be more near the sky. There was songs in the tree-tops and I did make
a stop way below to have listens. And I did look looks down on where is the
moss-box and the fleurs I have planted near unto it and the ferns and the
vines that do have growing over the old log.
And while I did have watches of the plant-folks that dwell about the
moss-box, and while I did have listens of the songs in the tree-tops, then it
was the pensée girl with the far-away look in her eyes and the man of the
long step that whistles most all of the time did come walking through the
woods. It is often now they so come, and he does gather ferns for her and
they have listens to what the brook sings. To-day they did n’t make a stop
by the brook. They came right on and on. They so did until they was come
right up to where the plant-folks dwell by the moss-box.
First I did have thinks they was coming comes to leave a letter for the
fairies. But they came and they stood there—they did not go goes away.
Then I had knows they did n’t even see the moss-box where I do leave the
letters for the fairies. They did almost step on it. I had sees there was joy-
lights in her eyes, and the looks he looked at her was like the looks the
young husband of Dear Love does look at her when he is come home from
work at even-time. And I did reach out my arms above them for blessings to
come.
They had not knows of my reaching out my arms above them. Only God
had knows. They did just have sees for one another. I have sure feels they
did n’t see that green caterpillar having sleeps under the green hazel leaf.
He most stepped on the moss-box. I most hollered. My loose tooth was

queer feels. He is a most strong man. He put his arms around the pensée girl
and he most lifted her off the ground. I had fears he would drop her on the
moss-box. I most did have losing of my balance on the tree-arm.
And I had sees of a chipmunk on a stump. He was very saucy and had
nice stripes on his back. And he did sit up and talk chipmunk talk to another
chipmunk. I had hears of him and sees of him. But the man of the long step
and the pensée girl did n’t have sees of the chipmunk. He did take out a ring
of gold, and he did tell her that was his mother’s wedding-ring; and the
caterpillar that was asleep did have wake-ups, and he crawled a little more
under the hazel leaf. And a butterfly went by—it was a cream one with a
nice ribbon at its wing-edge and pinkish spots. I had thinks about how nice
it would be to be a butterfly and come out of a little egg and be a caterpillar
first and have a lot of legs instead of just two legs like I have got now. And I
looked more looks at the fat green caterpillar. I have more like him in the
nursery.
He did kiss her again. Last year I had more green caterpillars like unto
this one. And they did grow and change and they was very big brown moths
with velvet wings and velvet feet. And he did say, “I want to help you to
have all the love joy in the world”; and I put more in my prayer—a baby
soon. And the fat green caterpillar fell off the leaf away down on the
ground, but he fell on some moss I have put about where is the moss-box.
And after his arm did touch the hazel bush he did step over two steps. I
breathed a big breathe of reliefs about the moss-box not having steps on.
And he kissed her again. And the green caterpillar made begins to crawl
back up the hazel bush. And I felt a big amount of satisfaction feels that
they was so happy. And I did whisper another prayer for the angels to bring
them a baby real soon, with pink fleurs on its baby brush and a pink bow on
its cradle-quilt.
And in the bushes there was a little bird and restless was upon him. The
color of him was blue-gray, and there were streaks underneath and there

was a bit of yellow on his throat and so on top of his head. He did move in a
quick way. I so did, so I could see him more. As I did go along a-following
him after, I did have sees of the tracks of the comings and goings of little
wood-folks. And a way away was a soft-eyed faon. When it’s with its
mother, then it is a daine. There was whispers in the ferns and more songs
in the tree-tops. And my tooth had some more queer feels, and I had
remembers about the green string tied to the door-knob.
I went a walk back. It was still there when I was come to the house we
live in. Brave Horatius was by the steps. He did have watches of me while I
did tie the other end of the long green string around my tooth. Then I went a
quick walk to the other door by step-backs. I made a reach out for the green
string. But it was n’t. It was on the floor, and my tooth was. After I did
throw it away, then I did do the green string up in a roll. I am going to keep
it.
I went goes to the garden to get the beets the mamma did want for
supper. While I did get them, I did have seeing that the green dresses of the
turnip-folk are getting faded and old. I thought they might like to have new
white dresses. I went again to the kitchen. I lifted the flour-sifter from the
flour-drawer in the cook-table. I did go back to the garden. There I sifted
flour on the turnip folks. It came down in sprinkles like snowflakes. That
gave them the proper look. When the wind came along, they nodded
appreciation and some of the flour slid off to the ground. And Brave
Horatius and I went to prayers in the cathedral, and so went Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides.
And Mathilde Plantagenet did wait waits at the pasture-bars.

CHAPTER XXXVI

Of Taking-Egg Day, and the Remarkable Things that Befell thereon.

To-day was taking-egg day. Taking-egg day comes mostly one time a
week. It is the day the mamma does send me straight to take eggs to the
folks here about and yonder. First she does send me to take them yonder,
before she does send me to take them hereabout. This she does because she
knows if she sends me first to take them to the folks that live hereabout, I
do stay so long with the folks that live in the nursery and hospital that there
is n’t time enough left to take eggs unto the people that live yonder.
As quick as I did eat my breakfast, the mamma did set out the lard-pail
on the wash-bench with a dozen eggs in it. As quick as she did so, I put on
my sun-bonnet. It is blue and has a ruffle on it. Sometimes I wear it on my
head, but most times it hangs back over my shoulders. And often I carry it
over my arm with things in it—earthworms for baby birds, bandages for the
folks that get hurt, and mentholatum in quinine boxes. Then too on
exploration trips my chums ride in it. Sometimes it’s a mouse and
sometimes it’s a beetle. Very often it is toads and caterpillars—only they
don’t ride in the sun-bonnet at the same time, because I have learned toads
like to eat caterpillars for breakfast. Sometimes Thomas Chatterton Jupiter
Zeus, that most dear velvety wood-rat, snuggles up in my sun-bonnet. He
most fills it up. A sun-bonnet is a very useful garment.
After I did tie my bonnet-strings under my chin in the proper way the
mamma thinks they ought to be tied, I walked over to the wash-bench in
hippity-hops to get that bucket of eggs. Before I took up the bucket, I did

look long looks at those eggs. They were so plump and so white, and they
did have so nice a feel. I think being a hen must be a very interesting life.
How thrilling it must be to cackle after one lays an egg. And then it must be
a big amount of satisfaction to have a large number of children hatch out at
the same time and follow one about. I think I would like to be a hen in the
daytime, but I would n’t like to roost in the chicken-house at night.
When the mamma saw me looking long looks at those eggs, she gave to
me a shoulder-shake and told me to get a hurry on me and take those eggs
straight to Mrs. Limberger yonder. That Mrs. Limberger is the quite plump
wife of that quite big man that lives in a quite big house that is nice but is
n’t as nice as his lane. I thought I’d go straight to Mrs. Limberger’s in along
that lane from out along the field; but first I did go by to get Felix
Mendelssohn.
When I got to where he was, it was very near unto the altar of Good
King Edward I. And being as this was the day of his crowning in 1274, I
thought I would just go a little farther, to see if the crown I planted in little
plants there on the altar were growing in a nice way. They were. When I
planted them there from the woods in spring days, I did hope they would
burst into bloom on this his crowning day and make a crown of flowers on
his altar. But the dear little things got in a hurry, and did bloom more than a
month ago. But they were saying to-day beautiful things with their leaves. I
heard them as I did kneel to pray to thank God for Good King Edward I.
After I did pray quite a long time and Felix Mendelssohn got a little
fidgety, I started on to take the eleven eggs that were left straight to
Mrs. Limberger. The other egg I could not take because when I did kneel to
pray, in some way it did roll out of the bucket, and before I was through my
prayers a little gray rock by my hand just rolled off the altar and met the
egg. There are a lot of little gray rocks on the altar. It is mostly made up of
little rocks and some big ones. While I was making that altar, the man that
works at the mill and wears gray neckties and is kind to mice came along.

And the big rocks that were too big he did lift and place on the altar there.
And then he did help me to plant mosses in between some of the rocks. That
made me happy. Men are such a blessing to have about.
To-day I did go from the altar to the field. Along the way I stopped to talk
to the trees and to watch the birds and to get berries for the nursery. I put
them in the bucket with the eggs. I most lost my bonnet climbing over the
fence, and I did lose three more of those eggs and some of the berries for
the nursery. I picked up the berries and put them back in the lard-pail, but
the eggs I could not pick up. I did n’t put my sun-bonnet back on my head
again, but I did give the strings a little tie in front so it would n’t come off.
Very soon after I saw a little snake. He was crawling along. When I see
snakes, I like to stop and watch them. The dresses they wear fit them tight.
They can’t fluff out their clothes like birds can, but snakes are quick people.
They move in such a pretty way. Their eyes are bright and their tongues are
slim.
When that snake crawled away where I could n’t see him any more, I
walked over to talk to a flower. After we did have conversation for some
time, I happened to think the mamma did say to hurry; so I said good-bye,
and when I did, I put my nose to the flower to smell it. It had a pleasant
odor. I went on. Pretty soon I felt something on my nose. I wiped it off. It
was pollen from that flower. I put it on an egg in the lard-pail. That gave
that egg a flowery look. I showed it to an ear of corn, and then, as I did go
along, I stopped to take the clods away from the roots of some of the corn-
plants so the toes of their roots could have some fresh air. They quivered
appreciations, and some did bow down most to the ground to thank me after
I was done.
I proceeded. The day was most warm. When I did cross the creek I
looked down it and up it. There were fairy demoiselles near unto the water.
Their wings did shimmer in the sunlight. All along its edges the willows
were dabbling their toes. Some had waded in a little bit—about enough to

get their ankles wet. I looked long looks at them. I knew just how they did
feel inside while they were dabbling their toes in the water. It is such a nice
feel to have.
I started on. I looked back. I started on. I turned and came back a little
ways—just to take a good-bye look. The willows waved their hands to me.
They called to me, “Petite Françoise, petite Françoise.” I hurried on with
the eggs. I had got twice as far as I did get before. Then I started back to the
creek. I ran all the way. When I arrived I took off my shoes. I hung my
stockings on a willow branch. Then I sat on the edge of the bank and
dabbled my toes. One drinks in so much inspiration while one is dabbling
one’s toes in a willow creek. And one does hear the talkings of plants that
dwell near unto the water.
While I was dabbling my toes, my legs did have longings to go in
wading, but I went not in. Something might have happened to what was left
of that dozen eggs the mamma was sending straight to Mrs. Limberger, and
that was why I did not go. And I did not take Felix Mendelssohn out of the
pocket he was riding in, that he might dabble his toes. I took him not out,
for he has no longings to dabble his toes in a brook. He has prefers to
dabble his toes in cheese. Though I do feel most certain one does n’t get
near so much inspirations when one dabbles one’s toes in cheese as one gets
when one dabbles one’s toes in waters that sing. After I did take in a goodly
amount of inspirations, I drew my toes away from the water and let the sun
dry my feet so I could put my stockings on. While I was lacing my shoes
up, I looked looks around to see what was near about. A little way distant
was a haystack.
When I did have my shoes most laced up to the top, I gave the strings a
tuck in and started on. I saw a bourdon. He was plump in body and he did
give a plump buzz. I did halt to screwtineyes him and to listen to more of
those plump buzzings of his. They were cool sounds. What ones I did hear
were so. He was a bourdon in a hurry, and he went on in a quick way. And I

went on in a slow way. The sun was so hot. It made me squint my eyes, so I
put my bonnet on. That made things better. Pretty soon I met Elizabeth
Barrett Browning. Then we went walking across the field. I took off my
sun-bonnet and tied it on Elizabeth Barrett Browning so the sun would n’t
bother her eyes. And she did go her way and I did go mine. We shall meet
again at the pasture-bars when comes even-time.
When I did say good-bye to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I went the way
that leads to this haystack. And here I have stopped. A haystack is such an
interesting place. It’s a nice place to explore. I think so. Mice think so.
Sometimes—quite often—when I am crawling back in a haystack, I do
meet a mouse, which is very nice, for mice are nice folks to know. And now
to-day, when I did crawl back away under the straw I did find something.
What I did find made me feel gratitudes from my curls to my toes. It was a
nest full of eggs and nobody had used an egg from it. There are—there were
just fifteen eggs under the hay. They are not near so white as are those eight
eggs the mamma is sending straight to Mrs. Limberger, but they do have
more smooth feels. Oh, such satin feels! They are so slick they came most
slipping right out of my hands, but they did n’t.
Four and two I have took. I have put them here in the pail. I do know
Mrs. Limberger does so like to have things with satin feels about her. I have
heard her expressions so when I was taking eggs to her before. Now I think
she will beam delights all over her plumpness when she does see the satin
feel eggs in this pail. I have placed them on top so she will see them first of
all. Too, I think her eyes will kink when she finds she has got a dozen eggs
and two. I wonder what she will be doing with those two extra eggs. Now
I’ll just get a hurry on me and take them straight to her. And I will hide
these printings of to-day in a little box here in the haystack until comes
eventime. And I will come back again for them when I come to meet
Elizabeth Barrett Browning at the pasture-bars.

I’m back again. I did go straight from this haystack with the two and
dozen eggs to the door of the house of Mrs. Limberger. When I did get there
she was talking with a woman. The woman was the beautiful Sadie
McKibben, and she wore upon her a new dress like the blossoms of avalon
growing in the marshes, and there were freckles on it like the freckles on
her face, and both were beautiful. Also did Mrs. Limberger wear a new
dress. It was black and had a yellow stripe in it like unto one of those
yellow stripes the garter-snake wears on his back.
When I did walk soft upon the porch they were so busy talking they
heard me not. I reached out the eggs. Yet they were so busy talking they
saw them not. Then I did edge over to Sadie McKibben. I gave her sleeve a
little pull. She looked down at me and smiled. She went on talking. She
gave each one of my curls a smooth-out while she talked on. When she did
get most done with her part of the conversation, Mrs. Limberger did happen
to see the eggs I was holding out to her. She reached and took them. I was
glad, but my arm was the most glad part of me because it did have a tired
feeling from holding the bucket out so long.
She did n’t even notice those satin eggs on top. She did begin to talk
about the many ribbons and the many ruffles the new woman wears that
lives up the corduroy road. She talked on and on, and I did wait on for the
lard-pail the eggs were in. And I did get fidgety, for she was n’t holding the
bucket straight by the middle of its loop as a bucket ought to be held. I had
a little fear she would drop that bucket. That would make a dent in it. And I
knew what a spanking I would get if I took that pail home with a dent in it. I
did stick my finger in my mouth to keep from speaking to her about it.
Just when I had feels how that spanking was going to feel, she did take a
firm hold on the handle. But she did n’t take it in the middle. That did make
the bucket to tip. She went on talking. She took a big breath and two of
those satin-feel eggs did roll out. They bounced. They broke.
Mrs. Limberger kinked her nose quick. She put her new black dress to it.

Sadie McKibben too did put her new dress to her nose in a quick way. And
my apron so did I put to my nose. Now this I know for there I learned, an
egg with a satin feel may feel proper, but inside it is not so, and if it gets a
fall, it is only a queer odor that one does have longings to run away from.
But Mrs. Limberger made me stay right there and carry water from the
pump and scrub all the bad odors off her back porch. I think some of them
odors was n’t from the two eggs with satin feels. When I confided my
feelings about the matter to Felix Mendelssohn, Mrs. Limberger did tell me
to go on scrubbing. She said whatever smells might have been there you
could n’t get a whiff of, on account of the multiplications of smells that
came from the two eggs. Sadie McKibben did help me to scrub. She did ask
Mrs. Limberger not to mention the matter to the mamma. Also she said she
was going by that way to-morrow and would bring the four eggs to make up
the dozen.
When I started home Sadie McKibben did give to me a good-bye kiss on
each cheek. She knew how I do long for kisses, and how the mamma has n’t
time to give me any. When I walked by Mrs. Limberger I did look the other
way. As I passed she gave me a pat, and when she did, Felix Mendelssohn
squeaked. When she gave me the pat, it went through my dress onto the
back of the head of Felix Mendelssohn in a pocket in my underskirt. And he
being a mouse of a musical tendency does object to being patted on the
back of the head. He prefers to have pats on his throat. And he won’t let
anybody give them but me.
I went on in a hurry to home. The mamma came a little ways from the
door to meet me. Behind her was a switch. I saw both ends sticking out. I
did give my skirt a shake so Felix Mendelssohn would get out and away. It
would be awful for him to get hurt by a whipping. It might hurt his soul.
After the mamma did tend to me as usual, I put some mentholatum on the
places where the whip did hit most hard. Then I did go to take eggs to the
folks that live hereabout. I went in a hurry. After that there were baby

clothes to be washed and wood to be brought in. Then the mamma told me
to go find my sun-bonnet and not to come back until I did find it. I went
again to the altar of Good King Edward I to pray. Then I went to the nursery
and the hospital and came again here where I print. Now I do see Elizabeth
Barrett Browning at the pasture-bars. And she has got my sun-bonnet on. I
knew we would meet again at eventide at the pasture-bars, for often we do
and often on hot days she wears my sun-bonnet until we meet again. It does
so help to keep the sun from hurting her beautiful eyes.

CHAPTER XXXVII

Of the Strange Adventure in the Woods on the Going-Away Day of
Saint Louis.

Very early on the morning of to-day I did go unto the cathedral, for this
is the going-away day of Saint Louis in 1270. I went there to sing a thank
song for his goodness and to say prayers. I did sing the song of Saint Louis
that Angel Father did teach me to sing. The little leaves on the bushes
growing there under the grand trees—their little leaves did whisper little
whispers. I have thinks those little whispers were thank songs for the
goodness of Saint Louis. Sometimes I did hear little bird voices in between
the singing of the songs. I have thinks they were singing the same thank
song I did sing—only they were singing it in their way. And when I came
again home, the brook was singing the same song.
After other works was done at the house we live in on this morning, the
mamma did have me to stand on a box on a chair and give to the windows
some washes. Then she did have me to give the steps some scrubs. While I
so did, I looked looks about. On the porch-end was a little spider. He made
moves in a little quick way. A guêpe came near unto him. She made no
stops. She came on to him. She did carry that spider away.
Pretty soon I did have those steps all clean—nice and clean. Then the
mamma did have me to help her to take the children to the house of her
mamma. She and they stayed there all day. I so did not do. When they were
come to the door of the ranch-house, I did go goes in the way that goes to
the pasture-bars. I so did go to tell the folks in the pasture what day it was.

It was most warm when I was come to the far end of the pasture. The
folks of the pasture were not out in the sun. They were in shade. Elizabeth
Barrett Browning was under a big chêne tree. She did look gentle looks at
me. And I did put my arm around her neck and tell her all about whose day
it was. Then I went on to tell the gentle Jersey cow. She was near some
more chêne trees. I went on. She followed after. She did come with me as
far as the brook. I watched her take a long drink. The day—it was so warm.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning did come for a drink. I had thinks of Aphrodite
in the pig-pen. I looked looks about for the little bucket I do carry drinks of
water in to my friends. I found it where I did hide it by the willow bush.
Then I did go to take a drink of cold water to Aphrodite in the pig-pen.
These warm days she does have longings for a drink of cold water. She did
grunt grunts of appreciations. Then she did grunt another grunt. I have
thinks that other grunt was to tell me not to have forgets to take a drink of
cold water to Cassiopée. I so did. Cassiopée is a pig that does belong to the
man that our lane does belong to.
After I did tell them all about it being the going-away day of Saint Louis,
I did go my way to the garden. The golden rod did nod, “It is good that he is
born.” The tall sunflowers in the garden there did say, “It is his day, it is his
day.” I went adown the carrot-rows. They were all whispering soft
whispers. I have thinks they were saying little thank prayers for the
goodness of Saint Louis. The cabbage-plants were all smiling as I passed
them by. I think they are right glad for the drink of water I gave each one of
them last night.
From the garden I did go to tell other folks. I did sing the little song of
Saint Louis as I did go along. The sun, it was hot down on my head. I took
two big maple leaves and they did some help to keep its warmness from my
head. I went on. Once at the edge of the near woods I met with my dear
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. We went on together. I did carry him in
one arm, and I did hold a maple leaf over him with the other hand. A long

way we went, in about and out about, and many little folks we did tell about
this day being the going-away day of Saint Louis.
By-and-by, after it was a very long time, there was no sun. The warmness
did have a different feel. There were gray clouds in the sky. Some were
darkness. I did go in hurry steps. I went not from the road. I did go the way
it went around the bend. More dark clouds did roll across the sky. More
grayness was over all. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus in my bonnet did
make a move. I did almost drop him. I made a stop to wrap him more up in
the sun-bonnet. Then I did hurry on. I climbed the lane gate. It was more
quick to so do than to pull the plug out that swings the gate open. I went on.
There was a great noise. Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus poked his nose out
of the sun-bonnet. He cuddled up against me. The great noise came again. I
whispered to him, “Il tonne.” We went on. In-between times there was fire
in the sky. It made moves in a quick way. After it was the coming of the
great noise. Every time I did whisper to Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus, “Il
tonne.” I so did, so he would not have thinks the great noise was something
else.
When we were come near the ending of the lane, there was some very big
pats of rain. One fell on my nose, and it did roll off onto the back of
Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus. I cuddled him up more close as more loud
noises did come. When we were at the ending of the lane, there was Brave
Horatius waiting for us. I have thinks he had been on looks for us. His looks
did look like he had.
We went on together. We was just a-going to start down the path that
does lead to our house when we did hear a calling. It was a mournful sound.
I had thinks some little life was much hurt and did have needs of my help. I
felt for the little box of mentholatum in my pocket. It was there, and some
bandages too. The sound came again. Somewhere in the near woods a voice
was calling. I followed it after. Once I did have thinks it came from a root.
And then it was like it did come from a big tree. It was a pain-voice like

someone calling someone to come. Then it was like a lost voice trying to
find its way among the ferns. It was not a word-voice. It was just a voice
without words.
I did have wonders what voice it was. I followed after its queer callings.
Brave Horatius followed after me. He would stop and look queer puzzle-
looks at nowhere. We did go on. The voice sound came again. Then it was
like a voice lost from the person it did belong to. It was a clear low cry, like
a ripple of gray ribbon. We were more near to it. We followed it around a
big tree. There it was come from the man on the stump, between that tree
and the big tree that was beyond it. The man, he did throw back his head
and the voice came out his throat and went to nowhere. It came again like
little bits of queer green fire flame, and then it was low and again like a
ripple of gray ribbon. As it was so he did turn his face about. It was the face
of the husband of Sadie McKibben; but the look—the look in his eyes was a
queer wild look that looked looks at nowhere.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

How Opal Makes Prepares to Move. How she Collects All the Necessary
Things, Bids Good-bye to Dear Love, and Learns that her Prayer has
been Answered.

We are going to move to the mill town. For a whole week, every morning
now after the morning works is done the mamma does have me to help her
make prepares to move; and after I do be helps to the mamma, then I do
work at making prepares for moving my belongings when we go goes to the
mill town.
I have made begins a week ago. I have been carrying my belongings to
inside an old log a little way away from the house we do live in. Moving is
a big amount of problem. But mostly now I do have my prepares done. I am
going to take with me when we go goes to the mill just my necessary things
—the mamma does say none but my necessary things can go. She said that
was my blue calico apron and my gray calico apron and the clothes that
goes under them and my two pair of stockings and the shoes I have on and
my sun-bonnet and my slate and Cyr’s Reader.
But I have some more necessary things that the mamma has not knows
of. There is my two books that Angel Mother and Angel Father did write in
and I do study in every day, and the pictures of mother and père and the
pictures of grandmère and grandpère and tante and oncle, and all the others
that I do love much every day; and to-day there was needs to give the dear
picture of père a wash in the brook because last time on yesterday, when I
did kiss him, a little piece of jam from my bread and butter got on his dear

face that does look so like him. And after I did come from the brook I put
them all away in a careful way in the box I do keep them in, and I said a
little prayer.
And I went to bring to the old log the willow whistle the shepherd did
make for me when it was the borning time of the lambs, and the two flutes
he did make of reeds. And now I do have most of my necessaries in the
hollow log. There by it is the lily plant the soul of Peter Paul Rubens has
loves for to be near. And I have planted it in a little flower-pot Sadie
McKibben has given to me. And when we are moved moves to the mill
town I will put the lily plant under the window of the room I do have sleeps
in, so that what the soul of Peter Paul Rubens does love to be near will be
near unto where I am.
And in the hollow log there is the old logging boot of the husband of
Dear Love, that he has given me to keep some of my rock collections in.
And there is the bath-towel of Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus that Dear
Love has made for him. And there is the color pencils that the fairies did
bring to the moss-box. And there is many brown papers that Sadie
McKibben has given me to print prints on. And there is the cushion Lola did
make for Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil to sit on in my desk at school. And
there is all the patches I do pin on my underskirt for my animal friends to
ride in. And there is the track of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that I did dig
up in the lane. It has so much of poetry in it. And there is one of the gray
neckties of the man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice, that he did
give to me for Brave Horatius to wear. And there is the bib of Elsie’s baby
that Elsie did give me for Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides to
wear when he was nursing the bottle.
And there is seven of the tail-feathers of Lars Porsena that he did lose
when he did lose his tail. And there is four old horse-shoes of William
Shakespeare that the blacksmith did have allows for me to have when he
was putting new shoes onto William Shakespeare. And there is the thimble

of Dear Love that she has given me to carry drinks of water to the folks in
the hospital. And there is the little bell of Peter Paul Rubens that he did use
to wear to service in the cathedral. And there is Elsie’s baby’s little old shoe
that got worn out and she gave it to me for Nannerl Mozart to sleep in. And
there is the lid of Sadie McKibben’s coffee-pot that she did give me when it
came off. She always did sing over that lid when cooking-time was come.
And there is the traveling-case of Minerva that the pensée girl with the far-
away look in her eyes did make for me to carry all the christening robes of
Minerva’s children in, and more pieces of white cloth and little ribbons the
pensée girl did put into Minerva’s traveling case for christening-time come
next year. And there is the egg-shells Ben Jonson and Sir Francis Bacon and
Pius VII and Nicholas Boileau and Edmund Spenser and Oliver Goldsmith
and John Fletcher and Francis Beaumont and Cardinal Richelieu and
Sir Walter Raleigh and the rest of Minerva’s children hatched out of. I have
thinks there is needs for me to carry those egg-shells in my apron when we
go moves to the mill town, so they will not have breaks. And there is the
little gray shawl Sadie McKibben so made for Nannerl Mozart.
And there is the little cap that Dear Love did make for my Louis II, le
Grand Condé. It has got a feather in it. He did nibble the end off the feather,
and he had mouse-wants to chew the tassel that she did put on the bag she
did make for me to carry him in. And there is the ribbon bow off Elsie’s
garter she did give me for Felix Mendelssohn to wear. I have heard the
women folks at the farmhouse say this world would be a nice world if there
were n’t any mice in it. I think it would be a most lonesome place. And
there is the big handkerchief of the man of the long step that whistles most
all of the time that he did give to me for Brave Horatius to wear around his
neck. And there is Elsie’s old lace collar that Elizabeth Barrett Browning
does wear to cathedral service. And there is one of the whiskers of Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus that he did lose.

And there is all the portraits of my friends on poker-chips. And there is
the other white poker-chips that are waiting waits for pictures to be drawed
on them. And there is the blue and the red poker-chips that is the breakfast
and supper plates of the folks in the nursery and the hospital. And there is
Minerva’s white cap that she does wear to cathedral service with the ruffles
on it like are on the morning cap of Jenny Strong. And there is the long
green string I pulled my tooth with. And there is the split jacket of Padre
Martini, that he did last wear before he was become a grown-up cigale. And
there is the bottle of Menander Euripides Theocritus Thucydides—the
bottle that used to be a brandy bottle. And there is the skins of the
caterpillars they did grow too big for when they were growing into
papillons and phalènes. And there is the two tail-feathers of Agamemnon
Menelaus Dindon. And there is Solomon Grundy’s christening robe. And
there is the little fleur watering-pot the fairies did bring that I do give my
friends shower-baths with. And there is the cocoon that Charlotte Brontë,
the big velvet brown phalène, did hatch out of; and there is more cocoons
that other phalènes did hatch out of. And there is the ribbon bow Elsie has
given me off her other garter for the pet squirrel Geoffroi Chaucer that the
cat did hurt but is well again. And there is a whole new box of mentholatum
that Sadie McKibben has given me for the little folks I find with hurts in the
mill town. And there is the four vaseline bottles that got empty after the
young husband of Elsie did use all the vaseline in them to keep his
pumpadoor smooth. I have uses for those vaseline bottles to keep food in
for the folks of the nursery.
These things I have now in the log. Others of my necessary things I will
bring this eventime and on to-morrow and the next day and the day after
that.
Some of us go to the mill town, but not all of us so go. Dear Solomon
Grundy is sold to a man that does live at one of the edges of the mill town.
Aphrodite is going to stay stays here, and so is Mathilde Plantagenet and

Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Anthonya Mundy and the gentle Jersey
cow and Savonarola and Agamemnon Menelaus Dindon; and Plato and
Pliny are going to live on in the barn. Brave Horatius is going goes with
Aidan of Iona come from Lindisfarne, and too Menander Euripides
Theocritus Thucydides is going with the shepherd to the blue hills.
Minerva is going to town with us, and so is Sir Francis Bacon and Ben
Jonson and Pius VII and Nicholas Boileau and Sir Walter Raleigh and all
the rest of her dear children, and Clementine and Napoleon and Andromeda.
And by-and-by Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus is coming comes to the mill
town, and so is Felix Mendelssohn and Louis II, le Grand Condé, and
Nannerl Mozart and some of her children, and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil
and Geoffroi Chaucer and the caterpillar folks in the nursery. All are when I
do have homes fixed for them about the house we are going to live in in the
mill town.
Until then Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus is going to stay with Dear
Love and her husband, and, too, Dear Love does say Lucian Horace Ovid
Virgil can live under her doorsteps until I do have a place fixed for him
under the doorstep of the house we are going to live in in the mill town.
And Sadie McKibben is going to take care of Geoffroi Chaucer and bring
him in to me at the house we are going to live in at the mill town. And the
man that wears gray neckties and is kind to mice is going to take care of all
my mouse friends in his bunk-house, and he is going goes to feed the folks
in the nursery and the hospital.
And often it is I am going to come comes back again here to cathedral
service and talks with them I know, and to leave letters for the fairies in the
moss-box. I have thinks about the mill town. Maybe in the fields over on
the other side of the mill town—maybe there there will be étourneau and
ortolan and draine and durbec and loriot and verdier and rossignol and
pinson and pivoine. When I am come to the mill town, I will go explores to
see, and I will build altars for Saint Louis. Now I go to see Dear Love.

When I was come near unto her little house, I had seeing of Dear Love.
She was sitting on the steps by her door drying her hair in the sun. It did
wave little ripples of light when the wind did go in a gentle way by. She let
me have feels of its touches. And she did give me a kiss on each cheek and
one on the nose when she lifted me onto her lap. And then Dear Love did
tell me a secret. It’s hers and her husband’s secret that the angels did let
them know ahead—they are going to have a baby soon.
I felt a big amount of satisfaction. It is about time that prayer was
answered. Some prayers you pray a little while and answers come. Some
prayers you pray more times and answers don’t come. I have not knows of
why. But prayers for babies get answered soon—most always they do. The
time is so long I have been praying prayers for Dear Love to have a baby
soon. And now the angels have told her it’s going to come in about five
months. I have thinks that is quite a time long to wait waits.
And Dear Love has showed me the clothes the angels did tell her to make
ahead for its coming. And there is two little shirts and bands, and very long
underskirts with feather stitches in them, and there’s a little cream kimona
with a blue ribbon bow on it. I looked looks at it a long time. And Dear
Love said she was going to make one just like it for Thomas Chatterton
Jupiter Zeus. I am glad. And there was more little clothes, and while we was
looking at them the husband of Dear Love did come in the door and he did
look adores at Dear Love. It’s just our secret—just Dear Love’s and her
husband’s and mine. Nobody knows it but just us three, and Thomas
Chatterton Jupiter Zeus and Brave Horatius and Edward I and lovely
Queen Eleanor of Castile and Michael Angelo Sanzio Raphael and
Aphrodite and Lucian Horace Ovid Virgil and Felix Mendelssohn and Plato
and Pliny and Minerva and her chickens and Menander Euripides
Theocritus Thucydides and Louis II, le Grand Condé, and the willows that
grow by Nonette.

Now Brave Horatius and me and Thomas Chatterton Jupiter Zeus are
going to prayers in the cathedral. The great pine tree is saying a poem, and
there is a song in the tree-tops.

POSTSCRIPT

After this I lived in a great many other lumber camps, and there were
new people and new animal friends and new nurseries and other cathedrals.
I studied in the woods and wrote down what I saw and heard. In the spring
of 1918 I went from Oregon to Southern California, to do more research
work in natural science, earning my way by teaching nature classes. In the
winter of 1918 I published my first nature-book, paying for it by taking
orders for it in advance.
In the summer of 1919 I came East, hoping to be able to get another
nature-book published. In my going to see publishers, I came to the editor
of the Atlantic. While I was telling the editor about this book, he asked me
if I never kept a diary, and this is the answer.
After the seventh year and far on into other years I continued the diary;
but perhaps some other time the story of all these things will be pieced
together and made into another book.

Transcriber’s Notes

Some page numbers do not appear due to removed blank pages.
In Contents, “xxi” was changed from “xvii”.
Errors in punctuation were repaired.
Except for the following changes, spelling and hyphenation have been preserved as
printed in the original.
Page 17, “thought” changed from “though” (I thought that a walk).
Page 33, “fairies” changed from “faires” (if the fairies yet).
Page 48, “would n’t” changed from “wouldn’t” (ham would n’t be cut up).
Page 50, “maybe” changed from “may be” (thinks maybe his teeth).
Page 87, “that” changed from “what” (baby that has satisfaction).
Page 100, “Grand” changed from “Grande” (le Grand Condé, was asleep).
Page 139, “do” changed from “bo” (I do sing it).
Page 149, duplicated “to” deleted (to go away).
Page 154, “pancake” changed from “pankcake” (and the pancake-turner).
Page 167, “asfiditee” changed from “asafiditee” (piece of asfiditee I did).
Page 170, “Nicholas” changed from “Nicolas” (Nicholas Boileau and Jean).
Page 194, “Plantagenet” changed from “Plantagenent” (is enough for Mathilde
Plantagenet).
Page 218, “could n’t” changed from “couldn ’t” (we could n’t play together).
Page 218, “By-and-by” changed from “By and-by” (By-and-by I did hear Solomon).
Page 245, “oléandre” changed from “oleandre” (cornope, oléandre, iris).
Page 252, “mentholatumed” changed from “metholatumed” (I have
mentholatumed).
Page 276, duplicated “and tante” deleted (and tante and oncle).
Page 280, “mentholatum” changed from “metholatum” (box of mentholatum that
Sadie).

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