“Here, Sugar-bowl!” said Mr. Brunio. (He had got rather used to calling her that, because she loved sugar and had a habit of pawing into the sugar-bowl to get it). This was a trifle more familiar, and she took a step forward.
“That’s the way!” said Flitterveen, encouraging her. “Come on!”
Snowflake took back the step.
They grew impatient; yet some of their calls were encouraging that Snowflake could hardly resist creeping through the briers to their feet. Pretty soon she touched Chippy with her nose. He awoke, yawned two or three times, and, when he saw the people there, instantly pattered off into the woods. Now Snowflake sat very still, in spite of all their coaxings, for she knew that help was coming. And she didn’t have long to wait, for in a moment Eepersip came running up with Chippy in her arms. With a beautiful leap she cleared the briers and, taking up Snowflake, cleared them again and vanished into the woods.
Life for Chippy and Snowflake was great fun during the time when Mr. Brunio, sometimes with the twins, was coming up to the brier-patch and trying to entice Snowflake away. In the afternoons, though the two little animals were glad to stay in the brier-patch, Eepersip generally took them along with her when she went anywhere, for she thought that possibly Mr. Brunio might come up with an ax to chop down the briers. In this Eepersip proved wise, for, about the third day that Mr. Brunio and the children had been coming up Eiki-ennern Peak to rescue Snowflake, Mr. Brunio did bring an ax. But this time Eepersip had taken the two little animals out with her; they had gone exploring, finding sweet roots and brilliant berries.
Eepersip spent that summer in continual fits of dancing, laughing, and merriment. She had never before been so happy. Every day she felt as though she loved the animals, birds, and butterflies—everything of Nature—more than the day before. She loved to see the same birds coming back this year. Above all she loved the delicate butterflies with wings of all colours. She would lie in the meadow for hours and watch what was happening. She could imagine miniature cities in the air, and saw little butterflies and birds constantly going and coming from them. There were cities on the ground too, where orchestras of grasshoppers and crickets played in the grass.
She sometimes made up words for her melodies—little songs of Nature. She would sing them over and over, sometimes ringingly, sometimes in a murmur.
Buttercups are smiling
To see the butterflies
Feathering so softly,
Rainbowing the skies....The wind is snowing butterflies,
Fairy golden showers;
Misty the air with dancing wings;
The sun is raining flowers.
She told the deer that she felt like a butterfly, and that the wind was snowing her when she danced. And then she gave them handfuls of lush grass.