“A tribute to your genius, Lou,” said I. “Like the famous artist of old, who painted cherries so naturally, the birds flew down and pecked at the canvas.”
“I fear I shall have to dispel the illusion, dear. I guess they were more eager to pick up some cake crumbs I left than to admire my work.”
Readers, you will be glad to know that the girls’ work continued successful, and that the “crusty old creditor” turned out a good friend, from sheer admiration of their pluck and courage.
IN THE WOODS.
Merryvale was not a very lively place for any one except a couple of young colts, and as many calves, jumping around after their mothers.
The bees seemed to be making a good deal of fun for themselves, if stinging us children amused them, and buzzing into every pretty, bright flower, so that no one could pick it with safety.