tskills?"

"Yes, where old Rip Van Winkle slept for twenty years."

"Did he, truly?"

"So the story goes. Every time it thunders, we think the queer old
mountain men are playing nine-pins."

"Do you?" said Julie, with eyes still wider open. "I should like to see
them."

"The Indians used to say that an old squaw lived on the highest peak of
the Catskills, and had charge of the doors of Day and Night. She hung up
the new moons in the skies, and cut up the old ones into stars."

"Oh, Quillie, would it not be lovely to seek her, and find out more
about the moon and stars?"

"Pshaw!" said Quillie, with scorn. "Do you believe such nonsense,
Julie?"

"I don't know," said Julie, "but I think I should like to believe it."

Then they all concluded that they wanted no more breakfast, and there
was another rush; for the trunks had come, and each desired some
particular treasure--a garden tool, an old hat, a sun-bonnet, a tin
pail, or a fishing-rod.

Nurse was too good-natured to refuse, and so the trunks were opened, and
ransacked very thoroughly, until Mr. Brown summoned them; then, like
swallows at twilight, they were again all on the wing, darting hither
and thither. But in one little brain was a thought like a butterfly
emerging from its chrysalis.

To Julie this jaunt from the city to the country had been the
realization of a dream, or as if she had walked into a page of her
story-books, and found the things and people all living and true. The
scent of the sweet clover, the twittering of the birds, the deep blue of
the sky and the deeper blue of the mountains, the snow-white daisies and
the yellow buttercups, were things she had read about in the many lonely
moments she had spent while her mother was out giving lessons; but in
all her little life she had no actual experience of these things; and
now here they were, and in addition it was the land of romance--a place
where people could sleep for twenty years, a place where queer hobgoblin
people played nine-pins. That squaw Quillie had told her about was
fascinating; perhaps it was true that she still was living, and oh! how
she should like to see her! Perhaps if she walked all day, she might
reach the top of that great blue peak, and find in some strange little
wigwam that old creature who cut up the old moons into stars, and then
what a wonderful tale Julie would have to tell! It would be like
visiting the old woman who swept the cobwebs from the sky. There wou