the beds, while I sort out these pebbles, ready to mark the walks with."
"That's it!" cried Bruno. "And I'll tell oo about the caterpillars while we work."
"Ah, let's hear about the caterpillars," I said, as I drew the pebbles together into a heap and began dividing them into colours. And Bruno went on in. a low, rapid tone, more as if he were talking to himself. Yesterday I saw two little caterpillars, when I was sitting by the brook, just where oo go into the wood. They were quite green, and they had yellow eyes, and they didn't see me. And one of them had got a moth's wing to carry——a great brown moth's wing, oo know, all dry, with feathers. So he couldn't want it to eat, 1 should think——perhaps he meant to make a cloak for the winter?"
"Perhaps," I said, for Bruno had twisted up the last word into a sort of question, and was looking at me for an answer.
One word was quite enough for the little fellow, and he went on merrily. Well, and so he didn't want the other caterpillar to see the moth's wing, oo know——so what must he
