The hot sun and lack of rain had not dried up everything. There were fogs on the coast that dripped like fine rain, and fairly drenched bush and faded grass. There were fine green hills and fields of flowers, and the new crop of wild oats and barley.
And then autumn came in again, schools opened, business stirred up, there were blessed rains, and it was like a later summer.
The little girl had been much interested in her gull and he had grown very fond of her, eating out of her hand, and hiding his head under her arms as the squirrel did. She had traced Snippy to his home, and sure enough he had a companion. There was an old scrubby dead pine in which there was a hollow, or they had gnawed it, and thither they carried nuts and crusts of bread that Laverne pretended to lose.
"Uncle Jason," she said one day, "did you ever see an albatross?"
"Yes. Not very often. They are in the Northern Pacific."
"They are not like gulls."
"Oh, much larger."
"There is a story about one. Miss Bain has it in a beautiful book. One day she read it."
"Oh, 'The Ancient Mariner.'"
"Do you know about it?" Her face was alight with pleasure. "And is it true? Did he kill the bird: