Limberlost. Elnora complained of being tired, so she went to her room and to bed. But sleep would not come. Thought was racing in her brain and the longer she lay the wider awake she grew. At last she softly slipped from bed, lighted her lamp and began opening boxes. Then she went to work. Two hours later a beautiful birch bark basket, strongly and artistically made stood on her table. She set a tiny alarm clock at three, returned to bed and fell asleep instantly with a smile on her lips.
She was on the floor with the first tinkle of the alarm, and hastily dressing, she picked up the basket and a box to fit it, crept down the stairs, and out to the violet patch. She was unafraid, as it was so near morning, and lining the basket with damp mosses she swiftly began picking with practised hands the youngest of the flowers. It was so dark she scarcely could tell which were freshest at times, but day soon came creeping over the Limberlost and peeped down at her. The robins awoke all their neighbours, and a babel of bird notes filled the air. The dew was dripping, and the first strong rays of light fell on a world in which Elnora worshipped. When the basket was filled to overflowing, she set it in the stout pasteboard box, packed it solid with mosses, tied it firmly and slipped under the cord a note she had written the previous night.
Then she took a short cut across the woods and walked swiftly to Onabasha. It was after six o'clock, but all of the city she wished to avoid were asleep. She had no trouble in finding a small boy out, and she stood at a distance waiting while he rang Dr. Ammon's bell and
