"Like Mrs. Severn wears on her hat," said Dot, suddenly breaking in.
"What! Eaglets on her hat?" cried Agnes.
"Eaglets to trim hats with?" chuckled Neale. "That is a new style, for fair."
"Oh, dear me," said Ruth, with a sigh. "The child means aigrets. Though I am sorry if Mrs. Severn is cruel enough to follow such a fashion. That's a different kind of bird, honey."
"Anyway, there will not be young eagles at this time of year, I guess," Neale added.
"How would we ever climb up to an eyrie?" Tess asked. "They are in very inaccessible places."
"As inac—accessible," asked Dot, stumbling over the big word, "as Mrs. MacCall's highest preserve shelf?"
"Quite," laughed Ruth.
The road through which they now drove was really "woodsy." The leaves were changing from green to gold, for the sap was receding into the boles and roots of the trees. The leaves seemed to be putting on their bravest colors as though to flout Jack Frost.
Squirrels darted away, chattering and scolding, as the party advanced. These little fellows seemed to suspect that the woods were to be raided and some of the nuts, which they considered their own lawful plunder, taken away.