"And that really was the case," said Miss Harson, after listening with a smile to this discussion, "although there were probably leaves on the ground for the children to lie upon. A bed of leaves is not a bad thing where there are no mattresses, and such a bed is often used as a matter of course. You will remember my reading to you about the beds which the Finland mothers make for their children of the leaves of the canoe-birch. 'Leafy beds' are no strange thing--not mere poetry."
CHAPTER XV.
THE TENT AND THE LOCUSTS.
There came a bright balmy day in May when the children found a delightful surprise awaiting them. The tent in the woods, which had been proposed on the day when birch-twigs were found to be eatable, was almost forgotten--or if thought of, it was as a thing that could not possibly be--when, on the day in question, Miss Harson took her charges out as usual, and led them to a very pretty cleared space with a fringe of rocks and trees all around it. But on this spot, which hitherto had been quite bare, there now stood some sort of a little house different from other houses and quite pretty.
"It's a tent!" exclaimed Malcolm. "Who put it there, I should like to know, on our land?"
"Are there gypsies here, Miss Harson?" whispered Clara, rather fearfully.
But the young lady walked deliberately up to the entrance of the tent and invited her little flock to come inside.
"I know the gentleman who had it put here," she said, "and he is quite willing that we should use it; but he will not give any one else this liberty."
"I think I know him too," said Malcolm as he walked in after Miss Harson.