exercise; now I can't think of another thing that will be interesting."
There was a burst of exquisite notes in the maple.
"Put in the grosbeak," suggested Elnora. "Tell her you are so friendly with him you feed him potato bugs."
Ammon dropped the pen to the sheet, bent forward, then hesitated.
"Blest if I do!" he cried. "She'd think a grosbeak was a depraved person with a large nose. She'd never dream that it was a black-robed lover, with a breast of snow and a crimson heart. She don't care for hungry babies and potato bugs. I shall write that to father. He will find it exquisite."
Elnora deftly picked up a moth, pinned it and placed its wings. She straightened the antennæ, drew each leg into position and set it in perfectly lifelike manner. As she lifted her work to see if she had it right, she glanced at Ammon. He was still frowning and hesitating over the paper.
"I dare you to let me dictate a couple of paragraphs," she said.
"Done!" cried Ammon. "Go slowly enough that I can write it."
Elnora laughed softly.
"I am writing this," she began, "in an old grape arbour in the country, near a log cabin where I had my dinner. From where I sit I can see directly into the home of the next-door neighbour on the west. His name is R. B.
