“Well, I think pine cones make the oddest and prettiest things. The small cones combined with birch bark are lovely. I have made frames by glueing cones in patterns on thin bark-covered wooden frames. I have a large picture of George Washington at home that I framed in this way years ago. Then, too, I will show you a work-box that I made for my mother. It was made of a cigar-box and covered with bark. On top of the lid, and about the sides, I glued different kinds of cones and stems. Then I varnished the whole thing and it was beautiful, in my estimation. It has lasted to this day, and I made it over five years ago.”
“I waxed some Autumn leaves last year and we used them over the windows and doors until Christmas time. Everyone said they looked so pretty,” said Elena.
“Why can’t we gather some of these beautiful leaves and do the same thing with them, Miss Miller?” asked Jane, eagerly.
“We must wax them with sperm and iron them as soon as they are cut from the branches. You see, the colours remain exactly the same as when they were gathered if you wax them before they have time to dry. Whole branches can be waxed this way and used for decorative purposes. Florists to-day use great masses of waxed Autumn leaves in their exhibits, or for back-grounds through the Winter months. But care must be taken when ironing the spermaceti over the leaves that the hot iron does not touch the stem or wood of the branch. If it does, the leaf will immediately fall off.”
So much time had been taken by the collecting and descriptions of articles made of birch bark, that it was noon before anyone dreamed it was more than ten o’clock.
“Girls, we ought to find a place for a swim and then have lunch. After that we will seek for a neighbour—if there are any on this crest,” said Miss Miller.
But the girls could find no way to get down the steep cliff-side unless they went a long way back. So they gave up the hope of a swim that day and started off to seek for adventure.
They had gone about a mile in a new direction when one of the girls glimpsed a fine old mansion painted so nearly like the green and russet colouring of the woods that it was difficult to distinguish it from its beautiful setting.
“No wonder we didn’t see it before,” remarked Zan, gazing at its dark brown shingled sides and green roof.
“It doesn’t seem occupied. Maybe the people do not live here,” suggested Elena.