This same pink button was a new-comer among them. He had been brought, a little brown seed, by a fat robin, early in the spring, and dropped down close by this sweet violet.
“Mr. Button,” she said, “you have been a great traveller. Won’t you tell us some of your experiences?”
“Yes, yes; tell, tell, tell,” babbled the brook.
The warm wind clapped him on the shoulder, and shook him gently, crying,—“Tell them, old fellow, and I’ll fan them a bit while you do it.”
“Tell, tell,” chirped the birds overhead.
“O yes!” chorused the buttercups and daisies.
The little birds opened one eye and perked their heads in a listening attitude, and all the violets put their gossamer hoods behind their ears so that they might hear better.
“AND WHAT IS CHAUTAUQUA?”