ls. Earlier in the season,
when the young were yet very small, it so happened that at times
Freckles could give into her hands one of these little ones. Then it was
pure joy to stand back and watch her heaving breast, flushed cheek, and
shining eyes. Hers were such lovely eyes. Freckles had discovered lately
that they were not so dark as he had thought them at first, but that
the length and thickness of lash, by which they were shaded, made them
appear darker than they really were. They were forever changing. Now
sparkling and darkling with wit, now humid with sympathy, now burning
with the fire of courage, now taking on strength of color with ambition,
now flashing indignantly at the abuse of any creature.

She had carried several of the squirrel and bunny babies home, and had
littered the conservatory with them. Her care of them was perfect. She
was learning her natural history from nature, and having much healthful
exercise. To her, they were the most interesting of all, but the
Bird Woman preferred the birds, with a close second in the moths and
butterflies.

Brown butterfly time had come. The edge of the swale was filled with
milkweed, and other plants beloved of them, and the air was golden with
the flashing satin wings of the monarch, viceroy, and argynnis. They
outnumbered those of any other color three to one.

Among the birds it really seemed as if the little yellow fellows were
in the preponderance. At least, they were until the redwinged blackbirds
and bobolinks, that had nested on the upland, suddenly saw in the
swamp the garden of the Lord and came swarming by hundreds to feast and
adventure upon it these last few weeks before migration. Never was there
a finer feast spread for the birds. The grasses were filled with seeds:
so, too, were weeds of every variety. Fall berries were ripe. Wild
grapes and black haws were ready. Bugs were creeping everywhere. The
muck was yeasty with worms. Insects filled the air. Nature made glorious
pause for holiday before her next change, and by none of the frequenters
of the swamp was this more appreciated than by the big black chickens.

They seemed to feel the new reign of peace and fullness most of all. As
for food, they did not even have to hunt for themselves these days,
for the feasts now being spread before Little Chicken were more than he
could use, and he was glad to have his parents come down and help him.

He was a fine, big, overgrown fellow, and his wings,