shall meet again at the pasture-bars when comes even-time.
When I did say good-bye to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, I went the way that leads to this haystack. And here I have stopped. A haystack is such an interesting place. It's a nice place to explore. I think so. Mice think so. Sometimes—quite often—when I am crawling back in a haystack, I do meet a mouse, which is very nice, for mice are nice folks to know. And now to-day, when I did crawl back away under the straw I did find something. What I did find made me feel gratitudes from my curls to my toes. It was a nest full of eggs and nobody had used an egg from it. There are—there were just fifteen eggs under the hay. They are not near so white as are those eight eggs the mamma is sending straight to Mrs. Limberger, but they do have more smooth feels. Oh, such satin feels! They are so slick they came most slipping right out of my hands, but they did n't.
Four and two I have took. I have put them here in the pail. I do know Mrs. Limberger does so like to have things with satin feels about her. I have heard her expressions so when I was taking eggs to her before. Now I think she will beam delights all over her plumpness when she does see the satin feel eggs in this pail. I have placed them on top so she will see them first of all. Too, I think her eyes will kink when she finds she has got a dozen eggs and two. I wonder what she will be doing with
