# The House Without Windows/The Meadow

I
THE MEADOW
Butterfly wings are weary,
For the first few months Eepersip was delighted with her flowers, and the butterflies and birds pleased her even more. But she was not a child who could be contented easily, and pretty soon she began to feel lonely again. One July day a fresh idea came into her head. She packed some sandwiches and some crackers in a small lunch-basket. Without telling a soul, the next morning before dawn she slipped out of bed, dressed, and picked up her basket; then she stole out of the cottage and away. She went east from her home on a shady path through beautiful woodlands, with here and there a grove of great massive pines. And as she walked she sang merrily.
After quite a while she stepped out of the woodlands on to a large lawn. Close to the path there was a pool with some tiny goldfishes swimming about in it. Then she knew that she was nearing a house, and instead of pacing slowly along the path she began to run; for she was afraid that someone would see her and send her back home. But after a few minutes she grew tired and settled down to a reasonable pace. And as she slowed down she came into an enormous field of rhododendrons, ​lavender, white, and brilliant red. Oh, what a gorgeous place that was! As Eepersip walked along, an oriole sang from a bush; she peeped into a humming-bird's nest with two tiny white eggs in it; she startled a vireo from its nest in a low clump of grass, and, peeping into it, found three baby birds. The farther she went the more her heart began to leap within her for joy of the life she was finding for herself. Her loneliness decreased, and she was as free and happy as the birds or butterflies.
Soon the red and lavender rhododendrons dropped out, leaving only the white; then the white ones too lessened in thickness until there were none left. All this while she had been slowly climbing Mount Varcrobis itself. At last she came into a small open glade, still walking east from the cottage—which she was not thinking about just then, so happy was she at thought of the new, interesting life she had found. This glade was near the top of the mountain, only one high peak towering above it. Across it ran a little brook, tinkling through the ferns and bracken.
She paused on the path suddenly, then drew back; for a doe and her daisied fawn were grazing close by. Eepersip took from her basket a lump of sugar, and held it out to the beautiful creatures. ​Very hesitatingly the doe moved forward, followed by her fawn, and at last took the lump of sugar from Eepersip's fingers.
Eepersip had not expected this. On the contrary, she had thought that they would be startled and would bound away out of sight in the woods. She gazed silently at the doe, who had begun to graze again without a sign of fear. Could it be a dream? she thought. Eepersip had experienced the delightful sensation of the doe's slightly rough tongue around her fingers; and suddenly, she felt as if she could never leave them—as if she must stay always and play with the woods. Already she had become acquainted with a doe and a fawn, and they were not afraid of her! She sat down on the grass, and the fawn lay beside her. She cuddled it close in her arms.
Then it grew dark. The sun was sinking, and at last it went behind a thin, filmy cloud, producing wonderful colours, red, gold, silver, and purple. Like fire it glowed and quivered, and through it all could be seen the ball of the sun, growing clearer as it sank, and growing larger too. And as Eepersip sprang to her feet and watched it glow and quiver, she saw, away of, an enormous range of mountains; and where the mountains left off there was the edge of the ocean, with the light of ​the dying day reflected in it, in purples, reds, and yellows.
And then, being very tired, she lay down on the grass beside the two deer; and in a few seconds she was sound asleep.
The next morning Eepersip was surprised to find herself lying there on the grass between the doe and her fawn; she had forgotten about running away. The first thing she thought of was her breakfast; for, not having anything to eat the day before except a few handfuls of delicious red berries which she had found growing on a thick vine, she was very hungry. Not a sandwich in her basket had she touched; she had been so fascinated with her adventure that she had not thought of them. But now she ate three whole ones, ever and again breaking off bits and feeding them to the deer.
When she had finished, she set off in a great hurry to explore her surroundings. First she walked in the direction of the beautiful sunset she had seen, a little off the direction of the path by which she had ascended, and came to a great rocky precipice, the side of the mountain. ​She looked down; and far off she saw a shining river, winding about in the valley below, sometimes twisting back upon itself, then straightening out again. But it made her giddy to look too long, and she turned and started back to where she had slept. The doe and her fawn were grazing quietly when Eepersip returned. She threw herself on her back and gazed at the clear blue sky. In it swallows with their snowy breasts were circling, and when the sun shone full on them their white wings glimmered like the ice on a winter's day. A great desire came over Eepersip. She wanted to fly and swoop through the air like the swallows. She thought to herself that they had always been her favourite birds. She had always marvelled at their flight, as now they twisted in giant corkscrews and now swerved so as to turn almost completely over.
A butterfly flew over her head—a little yellow butterfly who danced and glimmered before her. Her brown eyes sparkled with delight. A cricket hopped and twittered; a bird burst into song. Almost without knowing what she did, Eepersip leaped into the air and began to dance, with the swallows circling above her head and the leaves fluttering about her. Then suddenly she sat down, breathless. She began stripping off her shoes and stockings. Her feet were tender, and every stick ​she stepped on hurt; but she was determined to get her feet toughened so as to go barefoot all the time.
Now, directly east of this fairy glade there was steep slope which ascended to the very summit of Mount Varcrobis, called Eiki-ennern Peak. Eepersip had a fascinated eye for this slope and longed to see what was at the top of it, but she would not leave the deer just yet, and also she was determined not to put on her shoes and stockings again. So she decided to stay in the soft grass until her feet were toughened; and she thought that then she could go up that wonderful peak over which the sun rose in clouds of glory every morning.
Before Eepersip had danced long she walked down toward the great precipice again, with her shoes and stockings under her arms. The instant the got there a madness came upon her, and whizz! two shoes and two stockings were flying through the air at a tremendous rate. They landed in the trees far below, while Eepersip, glad to get rid of them, coolly returned to the glade, thinking that her feet were already tougher than before because of that bold act. When she got back she decided to rest a while, then walk in the opposite direction and see what was at the northern end of the glade. So when she got rested she started off ​that way, with the doe and the fawn trotting beside her. At last she came to the slope of the mountain on that side. But this, instead of being a sheer precipice, was a gradually falling grassy bank, down which they went. The doe and the fawn followed some distance; then they turned back, letting Eepersip go on alone. But when she got part way to the bottom she began to see houses; and so, deciding that that wasn't the side for her, she ran back as fast as she could.
Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Eigleen were wandering in vain where their poor child had gone. At first they hadn't thought much about her, for she had been lost in the woods several times before and had always found her way home safely. But when it came to being gone two or three whole days, why, they were not sure they they were awake! The child must be starving, and who knew what a tender morsel to some prowling animal she might be by this time? So they began to grieve greatly over their loss, for they dearly loved Eepersip.
Before they has missed her very long, a poor old woman and her husband had climbed that part ​of Mount Varcrobis. Nobody in the village down below cared much for Mr. and Mrs. Ikkisfield, as they were called; and they had decided to go elsewhere and see if they could find some friends. The Eigleens took pity on them, and at last persuaded them to live in the brown cottage in the woods, and to let the Eigleens themselves go to the house of friends of theirs, the Wraspanes. It was the Wraspanes' rhododendron field that Eepersip had thought so beautiful.
The Eigleens, being exceedingly kind people, gladly gave up their cottage and their beautiful garden to Mr. and Mrs. Ikkisfield. Indeed, these things were no joy to them, now that they had lost Eepersip, for whose sake they had made the garden. The old couple were delighted, and, thanking the Eigleens very kindly, they moved in that same evening, the Eigleens leaving some of their belongings with them.
Eepersip stayed for many days with the doe and her fawn, and then, her feet having become tough, she crossed the brooklet and went on up Eiki-ennern Peak. Near the top, in a small sheltered place, she found a dear little pool surrounded with moss and ferns, amongst which some iris bloomed. It had a sandy bottom, over which swam tiny silver minnows. When they turned over and the sun shone on ​their bellies Eepersip saw a streak of silver. At last, when she got to the top, she saw that on one side it was a vast daisied slope, down, down; and on another it was wooded to the foot. From where she stood, range after range spread out before her, lake after lake beneath her, with the crimson of the now setting sun gloriously reflected in them. It was like fairyland. And when Eepersip turned southward, she beheld the almighty ocean with the exquisite sunset colours reflected in it as in the lakes. That night she slept on a soft bed of moss in a hollow down near the pool.
The next morning, after she had made a good breakfast on the juicy root of a plant which she found, she lay down by the pool and gazed at the sky, the way she had done on the second day of her wildness. And as she lay there it grew so quiet that a chipmunk stole out of a tiny hole that he had dug between the roots of a tree. He came to her, sniffed at a cracker she was munching, and tickled her cheek with his nose; whereupon she cautiously put out her hand with a piece of the cracker on it. The chipmunk was frightened and ran away. But the piece of cracker looked very tempting, and before long he lost his fear and ventured close again. Step by step he crept along, until, with a frightened squeal, he seized the piece and disappeared. Eepersip ​waited, laughing. In a few minutes he came back again, and this time he took the piece that she held out to him, running only a few steps. The third time he took it calmly and deliberately and ate it without running at all, evidently convinced that Eepersip was a friend. And the fourth time he was even more bold, going so far as to sit on her stomach while he ate. But by that time, between them, they had licked the platter clean—the cracker was gone.
“Just like the doe and her fawn,” Eepersip thought. How fearless he was, the fuzzy brown little creature! It seemed to happy Eepersip that all the wild was ready to make friends, as if nothing were afraid of her. She felt more than ever that she could never leave these entrancing forests. She could never, never go back, she mused. How wonderful it was to lie there watching the things that were happening, and actually to have one of the inhabitants of these woods—a timid one that was usually afraid—come up to her and eat from her hand! This adventure had certainly tightened in her heart the desire to stay always and become acquainted with more and more creatures—with the swallows she loved so well, and with the little fairy butterflies.
Whenever she went down to the sheltered spot ​by the pool, she saw so many beautiful things here and there that she never knew what to do in her delight. Iris blossomed in gold and blue; butterflies danced overhead like yellow rose-petals flying in the breeze. Once, running over to the pool, she found a tiny beach, about fifteen inches long and half a foot wide—no more than a handful of sand completely hidden in a forest of ferns. Across it ran the chipmunk's footprints, and the marks of his wee claws could be plainly seen in the damp sand. That little beach was the earth's dear treasure, so it seemed to Eepersip, alone in that wild place. In the fields all around, thousands of buttercups blossomed, and great beds of daisies whitened the earth's brown surface.
In one place, among dark ferns, grew columbine, gay little gypsies curtseying in the breeze. Their colours spoke to her of dawn, gold sunset and white clouds, snow-banks fringed with icicles, night sky entwined with moonbeams, black clouds and radiant sun, or orange, yellow, and scarlet leaves—autumn leaves. She gathered some, and made a rainbow wreath of blossoms; and curling about her hair, they danced again.
Beneath the branches of a white pine grew blushing lady-slippers, which Eepersip had never seen before. "Dawn comes to earth sometimes," ​she thought, “bringing her flower-clouds and clasping them with pearl seeds.”
Eepersip was anxious to know what was on the southern slope of this highest peak of Mt. Varcrobis. So one day along she went, happily singing, until she came to it. Then she was surprised to find that this slope, instead of being a rocky precipice as the one had been at the foot of Eiki-ennern Peak, went down steeply for a little way and then broadened out into an enormous field, on the farther side of which was a herd of deer. Away, away, Eepersip could just see to the edge of this plain-like field. With a shout, down she dashed; and, dancing as she had never danced before, she sang like a nightingale for joy of her discovery. And yet, she thought to herself, what if it should be a dream? She was quite sure that it was not, though, for she had felt decidedly awake when she started off. But, because she had started before anyone else was up or even awake, she thought that she might be asleep herself. Anyhow, if it was a dream, it was a lovely one, and she need not worry
But now let us return to the grieving parents of Eepersip, who were consulting the Wraspanes about a plan to search for her.
​At last Mrs: Eigleen said: "Something very queer has happened to our child. She must have seen something of other that has made her want to go off. But I will tell you what we can do. We'll take the Wraspanes’ big tent, and, fetching the Ikkisfields, we can camp near where one of us sees Eepersip; for I’m sure that she wouldn’t leave Mount Varcrobis unless absolutely compelled to. We can learn what habits Eepersip has got into, and perhaps we can catch her by some plan. My husband and you, Mr. Wraspane, are the spry ones, and perhaps you can hide behind trees and catch her when she goes past."
"What a grand idea!" cried everybody else in one voice; and without further ado they decided to carry it out.
So the very next day Mr. Eigleen and Mr. Wraspane set off to explore, on the chance of finding Eepersip or discovering where she was living. They reasoned out that Eepersip must have gone through the Wraspanes’ land when running off; because on the western side of the Eigleens’ little cottage there was a dense wood, of which Eepersip had always been rather afraid, it was so dark and mysterious. They went through the field of rhododendrons, on the selfsame path, and at last came out in the same small glade in which Eepersip had ​seen the deer, with the same brooklet running across it. They hunted all over it, but no trace of Eepersip could they find. They began to feel foolish. They decided to go back and tell the waiting folks that they had not seen a glimpse of her, when a glorious burst of singing reached their ears. Immediately they turned and ran in the direction of the voice. But still they didn’t see her, for they never dreamed that she had gone up the steep slope of Eiki-ennern Peak. And they began to feel still more foolish.
At last, after a lot of aimless wandering through forests, glades, and fields, they decided to give it up for just then and tell the folks that they had heard her, but couldn’t find her. So back they went, feeling very foolish indeed.
"We were looking for her everywhere," said Mr. Eigleen, "and after we had searched for a long time we heard this excellent singing, better than I thought she could utter, and we went in its direction, but couldn't find her. So I am beginning to think that 'twasn't she at all--either she or a fairy."
"Fairy!" exclaimed Mrs. Eigleen, indignantly —"fairy! There is no such thing as 'fairy'— stupid!"
Mr. Eigleen cast a wink at his partner hunter, ​Mr. Wraspane. "Anyhow," said he, "fairy or none, we heard the singing."
Again Mrs. Eigleen burst out with: "But why didn't you go right to the sound?"
"Dear wife," said Mr. Eigleen, "we couldn't, because directly in front of that sound there was a very steep rocky slope—you know very well the slope of Eiki-ennern Peak."
"Well," said Mrs. Eigleen, "if the voice came from behind behind that slope, Eepersip must have got to the top of Eiki-ennern Peak somehow, and if she did, you can. Wait with us a while and have lunch, and then go and try to find her again, and I will come with you."
"All right," said Mr. Eigleen.
Accordingly, after lunch all three started off on a fresh quest. They searched the little glade high and low once more, but with the same ill luck. Really Eepersip saw them all the time, but while they were here she was there, and while they were there she was here, all the time keeping out of sight behind bushes and trees: And when she rustled the leaves and they heard her, they thought that it was just the breezes making commotion in the leaves and grass.
Before they had hunted very long Mrs. Eigleen had to admit that the new game was harder than ​it looked; yet she didn’t give it up, for her greatest hope was to have Eepersip back again. At length Eepersip lost sight of them and, thinking that they had gone, she began to sing. They all started, and began to run in the direction of the voice. This time they didn't hesitate to go right up the steep slope of Eiki-ennern Peak. Mrs. Eigleen leading, they all three dashed up, with not a thought of the brambles that they were getting into.
When they got to the top, what a sight met their puzzled eyes! There was Eepersip dancing to her own singing, and ever and again she looked up at a little butterfly which fluttered over her head, and curtseyed before it. Great waves of happiness were flowing through her all the time. They made no effort to call her, but only stood enchanted until she danced off to the field. Then they quickly walked away. First they went back to their own little cottage and collected some of the important belongings which they had left there. Next they went on to the Wraspanes’ house and got the tent and other necessary things. Then, with the Ikkisfields and the Wraspanes, they started off for the top of Eiki-ennern Peak.
They pitched the tent rather far from the pool, but very near where they had seen Eepersip, on top of the hill. Now the next problem was to make the ​plans; and as soon as the tent was up they gathered together and began to think up ways and means. But Mr. Eigleen said: "Let us go on an exploration and discover some of Eepersip's habits. Let us all wander around a while, and when we discover what sort of habits Eepersip has got into, we can make our plans accordingly; for we can't make plans until we do know some of her habits."
All approved of what he had said, and everybody prepared himself for a long walk, interrupted at times by hiding and lurking, peeping and sneaking. So each person had a bite to eat and set off to explore the surroundings. They hunted high and low, but never saw a sign of Eepersip--never had a chance to peep and sneak. That evening however, while they were talking things over, they heard another burst of singing. They leaped to their feet and, taking a big lantern, all started out of the tent. In the direction of the singing they went on, trying to walk rather fast, but also trying not to step on many leaves or dry twigs so as to make a noise; and when they talked it was in the softest whisper. The singing sounded nearer and nearer; but they could not see very well without the lantern (which they didn't light yet for fear of frightening Eepersip away); it was darkening rapidly, and things were very dim. At last the singing ​grew so loud and so near that they felt almost as if they were about to run into it. And so they actually did; for Eepersip, who had all the time been approaching them as they approached her, went right between the Ikkisfields, startling them so that they didn’t know what to do! Mr. Ikkisfield managed to put out his hand and grab her dress, calling for someone to come and help him hold her. But by this time Eepersip had discarded her real dress and had woven one of ferns for herself; and, the ferns being interlaced rather loosely, the one Mr. Ikkisfield caught hold of tore away. Quick as a flash Eepersip bounded away into the night. Thus their first chance of catching her slipped between their fingers. They went back to the tent rather discouraged.
Now the deer in the great field knew Eepersip, and they all loved her, because she was so kind to them. Even the little fawns loved her and made no attempt to run away when she appeared. Twilight and dawn, when the deer were all lying down, were her favourite times in the field. Then she would dance about in her fern dress, singing so sweetly that all the birds watched her. She began to love ​the birds and butterflies even more than in the first days of her wildness, and almost worshipped them.
The morning after this curious face-to-face meeting with Eepersip, Mr. Eigleen spoke about another plan. "Eepersip every morning comes up from wherever she sleeps to get a drink of water from the little pool. Now do you know that big pine-tree that stands beside the pool?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Eigleen.
"Well, I will go and hide behind that tree tomorrow morning, and when she comes up to the pool I will try to catch her by jumping out at her when she comes by."
"Why do you not do it this morning?" inquired Mrs. Ikkisfield.
"Well, you see," replied Mr. Eigleen, "she has had her morning drink, for I saw her as was getting out of bed."
"I see," said Mrs. Ikkisfield. "But be sure that you get up in time next morning."
"I will," said Mr. Eigleen. "But if you're up and awake before I am, be sure to pull me by my left ear."
Eepersip was becoming more wary, now she had discovered that they were trying to catch her. But still she took it as a sort of joke. In the first place, she thought she could easily escape again if they ​did catch her. But she very much doubted if they could do it. For hours every day she practised running, leaping, dancing, and prowling, until she was as fleet as a deer and as soft on her feet as a lynx. She had practised leaping over high objects, and if someone were chasing her she could now escape being cornered by jumping a fence. She had trained herself until, even without a running start, she could clear the back of a standing fawn, or, with a start, a large buck standing full height. All these exercises made her light as a feather and graceful as a fern.
The next morning when Mr. Eigleen woke up, there was hardly a ray of light, but dawn was breaking out here and there. Mr. Eigleen got all ready for an exciting morning. Without waking anybody, he seated himself out in front of the tent, on the side next the field, in such a position that he could see Eepersip when she came up, and where he could pull-to the front flap immediately and bolt out the back way to the tree by the pool without her seeing him. He waited a few minutes, and then he saw her head bobbing up the bank. Hurriedly he closed the front flap before she saw him. Slipping out the other end and round in a long curve, he ran at full speed to the pool and hid behind the big pine. ​ Now it was at the foot of the pine that Eepersip usually stooped over to drink, because there the water was deeper and clearer. When Eepersip came up the bank, she stared curiously at the ten, thinking: "What! are my parents still here?" Then on she went to the pool. She approached it in a roundabout direction, her face drawn with suspicion; but, as usual, her route ended at the gnarled roots of the big pine--no instinct could draw her away from it.
Mr. Eigleen stirred the leaves gently as she bent over. She lay down flat by the tree, cupped her hands, and began to drink. Very quietly Mr. Eigleen put his hands on her, one on either shoulder, knowing that her dress of ferns would tear. She started, and struggled so violently that his hands relaxed their grip on her shoulders, sliding down her arms, so that they were now hand in hand. That was all Eepersip needed. With a tremendous sweep she took her feet off the ground, dragging down on his arms with all her weight and strength. Mr. Eigleen couldn't relax either of his hands, for she now held them fast. With another sweep she put her feet up on his shoulders and over his head; then, wrenching her own hands free, she slid down his back and slipped before he could seize her.
​When Mr. Eigleen went home everyone was surprised at this acrobatic adventure.
Mrs. Eigleen made a plan now. "Sometime at midnight," she said, "we could take a covered lantern and go down on the meadow to try to find out where Eepersip sleeps. I know the meadow is very large, but common sense tells me that she would sleep near the woods; so to-morrow night let's go and try to find her."
"Er--er--I don't know," replied Mr. Eigleen. "I’m a little bit afraid of that meadow, such curious things are happening there all the time."
"What has happened yet?" snapped Mrs. Eigleen. "You're an old coward, you are. I'd go in a minute, to save Eepersip."
"So’d I, so’d I," said Mr. Eigleen, hurriedly. "T only think that there is some curious magic about that field."
"I agree with you there," said Mrs. Eigleen. "But, as I said before, when it comes to saving Eepersip I'd go into thicker magic than there is in the field."
So they planned to get up a little after midnight and circle the field near the edge of the woods; and as there were six of them, Eepersip wouldn't have much chance of escaping if they once got their hands on her. That evening they ate a light ​supper and went to bed early, and about one o'clock they got up and went out into the great field with a hooded lantern. They circled around it; and at last they found Eepersip hidden in the bushes on the farther edge. Very gently all six laid hands upon her at once.
"Ah, we've captured her!" they cried triumphantly. "Our labours have been rewarded!"
But Eepersip, finding herself caught, became angry, and cried in a loud, commanding voice: "Put me down! Drop me immediately!" She added quietly to herself: "Now it’s all over."
Then she began to struggle very violently indeed. They had hold of her securely, and so her struggles were in vain. But just as they carried her past a sleeping doe which had no fawn, she uttered a shrill, wild cry; and this so startled the six that they almost dropped her. The doe woke up; and though she was afraid for herself, she was more afraid for Eepersip. She came galloping after them.
To see the doe galloping swiftly toward them naturally startled old Mrs. Ikkisfield, who supposed that all wild animals would flee at the sight of a human being. That was so generally--but not when Eepersip was in danger! Now, Mrs. Ikkisfield had hold of the most important part of ​Eepersip’s anatomy, though no one suspected it at the time--namely, her feet. Mrs. Ikkisfield dropped them, and for the fraction of an instant which Eepersip needed they were allowed to touch the ground. Eepersip wrenched herself free and leaped to the back of the trembling, excited creature, and they bounded away quick as a flash. The others, agitated, turned to chase the doe; but she, with Eepersip on her back, had vanished.
"Whew, that was a narrow escape!" Eepersip whispered in one of the doe’s long ears, as they lay down together.
The next day it rained hard. Eepersip's parents and their friends spent much time making plans for a day when they could go out. Mrs. Ikkisfield now made a suggestion
"It is," she said, "very like the plan that we tried last night--namely, to find Eepersip while she is sleeping. But we must have more people, more people! If we can get some friends from the village at the foot of the mountain, they can drive the deer that we meet away from the people that are carrying Eepersip. In that way she cannot be saved by deer."
"That is true,” said Mrs. Eigleen; "but, you know, often an angry herd of deer is a terrible thing to drive back."
​"I know that," said Mrs. Ikkisfield. "But we might be able to keep them cool--keep them from getting angry. However, let's make some other plans now. That is not a very good one."
"I was thinking," said Mrs. Wraspane, "if we could only get Eepersip into a small fenced-in area where we could catch her. But I have it: let us find Eepersip in her sleep again, and carry her to the tent in a roundabout route through the woods, chopping the bushes as we go, where there aren't so many deer, and where it will be harder for them to rescue her."
"Great idea!" cried Mrs. Ikkisfield.
So that is when they all planned to do, the next sunny day.
While they had been conversing in this manner, Eepersip had been sitting in the woods, with a little fawn and its mother for company; and she had been feeding the fawn handfuls of grass and gazing into its gentle eyes. Late in the evening it cleared off and them were promises of a beautiful day to-morrow. And so it was. The sun began to rise slowly, producing wonderful colours--first the most delicate shades of apple-blossom pink; ​darker on the horizon, and shading off into a pale buttercup yellow. And Eepersip, as she awoke, saw that the meadow was dotted with dark forms which could just be distinguished — the deer were all lying down.
Eepersip skipped up to the pool to get her morning drink, first spying all around and especially behind every tree. No one was to be seen, for no one was up yet. Eepersip drank her fill; then she breakfasted on the sweet root of the little three-leaved plant with a white blossom, her usual food. After that she went down to the meadow, beginning to dance and sing as soon as she got there. The deer were now beginning to rise, and as she danced she kissed each one.
When the sun had dried the raindrops and the dew, the families started out to the great field to see what they could discover. The first thing they saw when they got to the edge of the slope was Eepersip skipping around. Then they saw her dance off to the woods and gather some long green branches and blossoms. Very soon she came back to the field, went over to a sleeping doe, and crowned her with the branches; upon which the doe got up and licked Eepersip’s cheek. She danced about in her delight. She was so beautiful, so graceful, that when her parents saw her they were ​amazed at the way in which her dancing and leaping had improved.
Now, during the days in which Eepersip had been growing wild she had made friends with another chipmunk, who was even more fond of her than the one by the pool had been. The Eigleens and their friends now saw him scutter out of the woods end frolic around Eepersip. Last of all they saw Eepersip lie down on the grass to gaze at the sky.
"This would be a splendid opportunity for catching her," muttered Mr. Ikkisfield to Mr. Eigleen, as they looked at her.
"Hm! that’s just what I was thinking," whispered Mr. Eigleen in reply. "Suppose we go out in the field and try."
They all tiptoed down the slope and out into the field, where they immediately laid hands on Eepersip once more. She started violently and cried oat to the doe who was near. The doe dashed up, but did not succeed in rescuing Eepersip, for Mrs. Ikkisfield ran to hold her back.
"Never mind Eepersip--Mr. Eigleen and Mr. Wraspane can do that. Hold back the deer!" thundered Mrs. Eigleen, a slow red rising to her face. They all flew at the poor creature, except the two who were holding the struggling Eepersip. ​Off fled the doe; and then the others could help with Eepersip. The doe ran on to get help from her mate. Back they came in no time, for a deer is one of the swiftest runners in the world. The buck flew at Eepersip’s captors--just too late, for the others had succeeded in getting Eepersip safely into the tent.
But what could they do with her? How could they keep her securely? And, even so, if she was going to continue acting wildly, how much better off were they with her? This was a new question, which no one had thought of. But they decided that, if they could keep her safely, she would become tamed and civilized again. The question of security was the most important just then. Better go home immediately and take Eepersip with them, later returning for their tent and their belongings. This they did, locking Eepersip in the house while they were getting their things; and as they went they rejoiced.
But now all the deer of the field, knowing that Eepersip, their beloved queen, had been taken from them, put their heads together. They intended to rescue her while her father and mother were sleeping, if they could only find where she had been taken. While they were lying down and thinking about it, a fawn came running up and ​poked its mother. It had followed softly, and knew just where Eepersip was kept. They all lay down to wait for the coming of night. At last evening came, and the deer fell asleep, leaving a night-watchman to arouse them later when the full moon was at its zenith. When the watchman signalled they arose and, with the little fawn leading, went down toward the Wraspanes' house. Eepersip was allowed to sleep out on the porch, but all its glass doors were closed and locked against her. The fawn led them straight to this place.
Eepersip could not go to sleep; she sat on the floor, whining softly in her misery. One of the bucks knocked gently on the glass door with his antler. Eepersip turned; a smile crept over her face at the sight of her beloved comrades. The buck, as softly as he could, broke one of the glass doors, wood and all. Then the deer, all except the fawn, bounded off to the field again.
The sound of breaking glass reached the ears of Mr. Ikkisfield, who was awake, all too late; for by the time he had wakened the others--which he did by shouting "Get up! get up! Sounds like high doings out there!"--Eepersip, on the little fawn's back, had vanished toward the field. The families, when they got to the porch, found only the broken door. Though they heard trampling ​hoofs, they knew that it would be of no use to follow.
The families, after that adventure, were desperate; and they decided not to make any more plans just then, for winter was coming on rapidly, but to stay at the house until the next summer.
As for Eepersip, well, she was mighty glad to have got away unhurt. Happy again, she was soon sound asleep in the woods on the edge of the field, cuddled up underneath the doe which had saved her before. She wasn’t sure how to get along through the winter safely, but she had had such a splendid summer that she knew it would be foolish to give up her wild life now. She could manage somehow.
And so she did. She found that her parents had left her own heavy winter coat in the place where they had once found her sleeping; and this would be very helpful to her, she thought. She was also glad to realize that her parents, much though they wanted to get her back, didn't wish her to perish in the cold of winter. "They are nice people, after all!" she thought to herself.
With the coat and the prospect of warmth, ​there came a delightful idea into her head. On the edge of the meadow there was an old dilapidated fox-hole. It was very large already; and after about ten days of hard work Eepersip found that the passages could be made exactly large enough for her to crawl into. The earth was so loose and mouldy that it came away without difficulty. She crept down the tunnel a long way, digging as she went. Presently she came to a snug bedroom about five feet square and four and a half high, which was a little less than her own height. But she did not mind stooping, as long as she had this cunning room; besides, she could dig away the ceiling if she wanted to. The room was old and dirty, but Eepersip lined it entirely with grass. Digging around, in one corner she came upon a little packet made of leaves. Inside it were a few cordary-berries seeds! She wondered who had made this packet--who had lived in this burrow before her. A person, of that she was sure. These seeds had not by any means rotted; they were still as moist and sweet as ever, and Eepersip rejoiced to them. Digging around some more, she discovered a small ​square block of wood. Lifting it up, she found great heaps of milkweed pods, kept from springing open by the pressure of the earth against them. She rejoiced in this too. There was enough of the milkweed to make a bed for herself. She covered the bed with her old dress, which she had kept all this time in case she should need it. Never was such a soft bed seen. In the burrow she also built several shelves of boards, and on these she heaped up more cordary berries and their seeds, which were just beginning to come.
The next day was the last of November. In the morning Eepersip, after a long sleep in the burrow, woke up to find the world white with the first snow. The entrance of the tunnel was placed at Such an angle that never a flake found its way down in Eepersip was delighted; she danced and skipped about, with the chipmunk at her heels.
The next day it stopped snowing, and the sun came out, shining dimly. Every snow-crystal sparkled like a diamond. Eepersip and the chipmunk dashed across the meadow and looked far, far down. Though ordinary eyes could not have seen to the end of this mass of glittering whiteness, Eepersip's could, and beyond all the icicles and snowflakes she saw the river calmly shining, blue as the sky. In its rippling surface Eepersip could ​see the very reflection of the sun breaking out through a cloud. The meadow was beautiful even when the sun was dim, but nothing to what it was now!
Eepersip could see every colour of the rainbow reflected in each crystal--orange, purple, green, blue, red, and many, many iridescent tints. Full of joy, she looked down upon the river once more, through the glittering iridescence. The longer she looked, the better she could see the river. But at last the sun went in again; it had been out hardly long enough to melt one snowflake. Everywhere round Eepersip went the chipmunk's little footprints, for he had shared her delight. At last, when Eepersip wanted to go back to her subterranean shelter, the chipmunk hung back and whimpered. Eepersip saw that he wanted to stay; and knowing that he could find his way, she left him behind and went back to the burrow herself.
But he didn’t come back. She waited and waited and often called, but he did not appear. "What can have have happened to my little friend?" she thought. At last she set out to look for him, calling as she went. She looked in every crevice, to see whether something had frightened him and he had plunged into some hiding-place. But she did not find him. At last, whistling and calling, she came ​near to where she had left him, on the edge of the meadow. Then what did she see in the snow but footprints--human footprints! Chippy's little tracks had started back in the direction of the burrow, but the strange footprints came towards his and overtook them--and at that point his suddenly left off. Then she discovered the others going down the hill again. It was only too clear--Chippy had been captured!
Eepersip sat down in the snow and wept. But suddenly she straightened up and became herself again. Why not follow those footprints down the hill and get her Chippy back? With a hopeful heart she dashed down, following the tracks. But she came into a small village, where she was afraid of being caught. She could not go on; so she went back.
Another idea! Why not follow the footprints some night, when there were not so many people around, and when, even if there were, she would not be seen so easily? But there the question of being able to see the footprints in the dark. No, that would be impossible: the only thing to do would be to wait. For what, Eepersip had not the slightest idea.
The name of the people who had captures the chipmunk was Brunio. Mr. Brunio and his little ​twin daughters, Flitterveen and Caireen, had come up to the meadow with sleds and skis to slide. They had seen the chipmunk frolicking about, and had watched him impatiently.
"How I would like that little animal for my own!" said Flitterveen.
"He looks cold and hungry, Father," said Caireen. "Here, I have some crackers in my pocket. Let us throw them to him and see if he will eat them."
This they had done, and the chipmunk had been tempted. He had come up cautiously and nibbled at them. He loved Eepersip dearly. He had never received harm from one of those queer two-legged creatures. He trusted them. But, while he had been nibbling, Mr. Brunio had sneaked up quietly and taken him. Thus he had been captured.
Eepersip was not able to free her little friend until the next spring. She had lived a rather lonely life without him through the winter, ans one morning very early she decided to make a desperate attempt to rescue him. She went down the slope of the hill to the river, through grass wet with pearly dew-drops. She stole along the bank of the river. ​behind bushes as much as possible, so as not to be seen. Finally she came to a little wooden bridge, and across this she went. But from there she had no idea how to proceed. She looked all about her, bewildered, afraid among so many houses.
It was a heavenly morning. The sun rose and cast a sweet golden light over the earth. The grass sparkled as if with diamonds. A fresh spring breeze was blowing gently. Flowers grew here in the deep grass, and myriads of butterflies came flocking. But Eepersip stood forlorn and discouraged.
Suddenly a faint squeaking came to her. She darted toward the sound. O Eepersip, beware--not too fast! The squeaking came from one side of a dark brown house. Eepersip saw a small wire cage, and in it her little brown Chippy. Mr. Brunio had opened the squeaky door of the house and was coming out with Chippy's food. Eepersip saw him, and swerved aside into the shelter of a gigantic rose-bush before he saw her--just in the nick of time. It seemed like a long wait, but after a while Mr. Brunio went into the house again.
Looking cautiously about her, Eepersip tiptoed out, opened the door of the cage, seized Chippy, id sped off. Thus he was rescued; and Eepersip was happy indeed!
​As for the Brunios, they were very much distressed when they found out that the chipmunk was gone. By spying, they discovered some of Eepersip's strange habits. Then, early one morning, they took their little kitten--the twins had rather stupidly named her "White," for her colour--up to the field where Eepersip had her home, let her go very near Eepersip’s burrow, and then ran away quickly before the kitten could find them. Well, White didn’t care much about being left in the dewy grass, bewilderedly shaking first one paw, then another. But presently Eepersip came out of her burrow with Chippy. Seeing the patch of white, Eepersip thought the kitten was an exceptionally late bit of snow left on the grass. But no, it certainly had not been there the last time she had looked. And then she realized that it was altogether too late for any snow. Darting up to it, she found the little kitten, so snow-white, with the blue-grey eyes like little moonstones, gazing pitifully up at her. Because she thought the kitten had been a patch of snow, Eepersip named her Snow-flake.
She took her, shivering with the wetness of the dew, into her burrow, and found, much to her surprised, that Chippy recognized her and sprang at her in great delight. The truth of the matter was ​that Chippy had often seen the kitten during his captivity, and had played many a happy game with her in his cage.
Caireen and Flitterveen had thought when they let the kitten go that Eepersip, seeing a new animal, would give them back Chippy. Not so! Eepersip would have two animals than one. Besides, she saw how dearly the two loved each other, and would not have parted them for anything now. The Brunios had been disappointed enough at losing Chippy--and now they had lost the kitten too!
It was now summer, and the Brunios--Mr. Brunio, Caireen, and Flitterveen--decided to climb Eiki-ennern Peak and try to get back their kitten. They wandered around a little while and at last came to a sunny place on the edge of the woods. It was a very grassy spot, all surrounded with blackberry-bushes just blossoming. Near its edge was Chippy asleep, and in the middle was Snowflake washing herself and playing with the dry oak-leaves that swirled about in the breeze. Snowflake started back a little at the sound of whispering voices, and then looked up. Eepersip was not there, for she had gone off to find some sweet bulbs and roots
"Come on, White, dear!" called Caireen.
​But Snowflake did not know her old name since Eepersip had changed it.
"Here, Sugar-bowl!" said Mr. Brunio. (He had got rather used to calling her that, because she loved sugar and had a habit of pawing into the sugar-bowl to get it). This was a trifle more familiar, and she took a step forward.
"That's the way!" said Flitterveen, encouraging her. "Come on!"
Snowflake took back the step.
They grew impatient; yet some of their calls were encouraging that Snowflake could hardly resist creeping through the briers to their feet. Pretty soon she touched Chippy with her nose. He awoke, yawned two or three times, and, when he saw the people there, blatantly pattered of into the woods. Now Snowflake sat very still, in spite of all their coaxings, for she knew that help was coming. And she didn't have long to wait, for in a moment Eepersip came running up with Chippy in her arms. With a beautiful leap she cleared the briers and, taking up Snowflake, cleared them again and vanished into the woods.
Life for Chippy and Snowflake was great fun during the time when Mr. Brunio, sometimes with the twins, was coming up to the brier-patch and trying to entice Snowflake away. In the afternoons, ​though the two little animals were glad to stay in the brier-patch, Eepersip generally took them along with her when she went anywhere, for she thought that possibly Mr. Brunio might come up with an ax to chop down the briers. In this Eepersip proved wise, for, about the third day that Mr. Brunio and the children had been coming up Eiki-Ennern Peak to rescue Snowflake, Mr. Brunio did bring an ax; But this time Eepersip had taken the little animals out with her; they had gone exploring, finding sweet roots and brilliant berries.
Eepersip spent that summer in continual fits of dancing, laughing, and merriment. She had never before been so happy. Every day she felt as though loved the animals, birds, and butterflies—everything of Nature—more than the day before. She loved to see the same birds coming back this year. Above all she loved the delicate butterflies with wings of all colours. She would lie in the meadow for hours and watch what was happening. She could imagine miniature cities in the air, and saw little butterflies and birds constantly going and coming from them. There were cities on the ground too, where orchestras of grasshoppers and crickets played in the grass.
She sometimes made up words for her melodies—little songs of Nature. She would sing them ​over and over, sometimes ringingly, sometimes in a murmur.
Buttercups are smiling To see the butterflies Feathering so softly, Rainbowing the skies....
The wind is snowing butterflies, Fairy golden showers; Misty the air with dancing wings; The sun is raining flowers.
She told the deer that she felt like a butterfly, and that the wind was snowing her when she danced. And then she gave them handfuls of lush grass.
At the end of that first winter Mrs. Eigleen began to feel ill. No one knew what was the matter with her. She spent the spring in continual weeping and hysterics. Towards the summer she began to feel seriously ill. They had had several different doctors in to see her, but none of them could find out exactly what the matter was, for she refused to tell anyone anything, even though she said she ​herself knew. One afternoon she called her friends round her and bade them take her over to the meadow, where they would surely see Eepersip. They took her out, but never a trace of Eepersip did they see. And Mrs. Eigleen kept on having her fits of weeping all through the summer, even more frequently than before.
Now, by this time Mrs. Eigleen, her husband, and all her neighbours had found out that Eepersip had taken White away from the Brunios; for once they had been out in the field and seen Eepersip. She was crowned with a wreath on which butterflies were clustering in bunches, like grapes; and Chippy and Snowflake were frolicking about her. The Eigleens, the Ikkisfields, and the Wraspanes went down the meadow and to Mr. Brunio's house (for some of them knew the Brunios and recognized the kitten), and he related his adventures. That very afternoon they went back to the meadow and chased Eepersip, but they couldn't catch her, for she took up Snowflake and Chippy and mounted a doe, who bore them off like the wind.
The next day they tried again: It was dawn, and Eepersip was lying in the centre of the meadow with Snowflake and Chippy by her side. She had had her breakfast, but she lay on the grass ​watching the sun rise and send away the shadows to right and left, flushing the sky with delicate pink and yellow. The deer were still laying down. Eepersip heard a sound of voices talking, followed by a roar of laughter; and instantly, of course, she grew suspicious. She heard: "Mr. Wraspane, will you come with me?" "Certainly, Mr. Eigleen." "Mrs. Ikkisfield, you come with me. We are the ones that are not so skilled in slyness. We will go up on the hill and guard there." "All right, Mrs. Eigleen."
As Eepersip lay there in the field, two men broke out of the woods right near where she was lying. She sprang to her feet, caught Chippy and Snowflake in her arms, and ran. Before she could snatch up the two little animals, Mr. Eigleen was just able to seize her dress as she darted by him. But, of course, the fern that he caught hold of came out in his hand, and she ran along toward the hill—a foolish thing to do, for she had just heard that there were two people guarding it. Still, that was just about the only thing that she could do, for the other two, Mr. Ikkisfield and Mrs. Wraspane, had also come out of the woods and blocked her path.
Eepersip fled up on the hill and nearly ran int Mrs. Eigleen and Mrs. Ikkisfield. Mrs. Eigleen ​caught hold of Snowflake's tail, and Mrs. Ikkisfield stepped in front of Eepersip, who dodged desperately to one side, releasing her hold on the kitten to prevent its being injured.
But Eepersip was not going to give up her pet just yet. She sped down the hill, knowing that the others would soon be going to give the kitten back to the Brunios. Through the big field she ran, with Chippy clinging to her hair—down the other side of the slope to the river, along its banks, across the small bridge 'way down, and back to Mr. Brunio's house on the other side.
Eepersip looked all about her for some place of concealment. No one was in sight. Along the side of the house there was a forest of blackberry-bushes, which extended several yards and was unusually dense and towering. The luscious black-and-purple fruit was ripening, making it look even more sheltering and mysterious. This patch was in such a position that it had to be passed to the front door, which was really on the side of the house. Eepersip was pleased to find such a convenient place. She sampled the berries with satisfaction, always taking pains to see that no one was coming. Then she wriggled inside and waited.
Presently they all came along, Mrs. Ikkisfield holding Snowflake. Eepersip had ready in her hand ​a little sharp-pointed stick. She pushed it through a tiny hole in Mrs. Ikkisfield's stocking. It hurt! Mrs. Ikkisfield gave a little shriek of pain and dropped Snowflake, who instantly put her paw on a small fern which she saw—she couldn't see Eepersip, but the fern was very familiar!—and was pulled by Eepersip into the bush. When the people saw that, they knew, of course, who was near.
Eepersip started to crawl through the bush and out the other side; but she heard Mr. Eigleen whispering to the others to go around and stop her. While they were watching, Mr. Brunio, who had joined them, went back into the house and fetched a net. It was woven of coarse, thick ropes, but the meshes were quite small enough to hold the kitten, and almost Chippy himself. (Mr. Brunio had once been a fisherman; he had retired, but he still had many nets with meshes of various sizes.) They put this net over the bush and pegged it down firmly, driving the pegs with the head of an ax which Mr. Brunio brought out. Then they retreated to a distance and watched.
Eepersip began working at the pegs; and the chipmunk and the kitten to dig at the base of each so that she might be able to pull them up more easily. The pegs were really too big for Eepersip's ​little hands to manage comfortably, but she didn’t think of comfort in such danger as this, and she worked boldly at the pegs with her nimble fingers. After she had got two or three up, the Eigleens and their friends came forward, took those pegs, and put them down more firmly than before, so that Eepersip had to begin all over.
Although the people who were trying to capture Eepersip and the kitten were naturally becoming very hungry, they didn’t like to leave the bush unguarded. But Mr. Brunio (who was exceptionally hungry) said that he had many more such nets, and that they could spread them all over the bush and hurriedly get luncheon. If they put them down very firmly, and ate rather fast, there wouldn't be much chance of Eepersip's escaping before they get out again. So they spread four more nets over the bush and went in.
Now was Eepersip's chance, and she worked harder than ever. At last, with the aid of Chippy and Snowflake, who helped a lot by digging around the pegs, Eepersip got out of the first net and began tugging at the second. She didn’t try to dig up the pegs of this one: instead, all three tried to dig under it, and at last they had made a hole large enough for Eepersip to crawl through. The fibres of the third net were rather rotten, so that ​Eepersip tore it easily. Each peg of the fourth and fifth nets came up at one mighty yank; Mr. Brunio and his helpers had put the last nets down in a great hurry, in order to get their luncheon. Then Eepersip, with the two little animals, fled from that dread place, across the bridge and back to the meadow, where she found a sheltered spot and slept.
The three families were much disgusted themselves for not catching Eepersip and the kitten; but they promised Mr. Brunio that would try again. There followed a week of rainy weather, during which they made no attempts, but laid plans. As soon as the weather cleared, they tried one of these plans; and Snowflake had a narrow escape.
It was in the middle of the night. The families found Eepersip, with the two little animals, asleep on the meadow. They took the kitten from her arms. But as they did so, Eepersip herself woke up, screamed loudly, and rushed after them. Then they turned and came after her; and Eepersip was bold enough and angry enough not to run until she had rescued Snowflake. She came right up her ​parents and seized Snowflake from the arms of the horrified Mrs. Eigleen. Then Eepersip ran—and fast, too!
When she came to the edge of the woods she made straight for a great pine. This tree she had climbed about in often, and she knew its every limb. In pitch dark she could find all its branches, and sometimes she trusted to her memory rather recklessly. She was as sure of this tree as of the ground, even at night. She loved—she called it her tree. A tree was, perhaps, not the easiest place of concealment, but Eepersip thought that in this way she would not have to run all over the meadow in the dark—and she was very tired after her usual all-day playing.
There were no branches lower than seven feet up. Eepersip made one leap, caught hold of a branch, and swung herself up on to it. From that branch she mounted higher and higher until she reached the very top. It swayed gloriously, even under her light weight, but to didn't creak as if about to break. She sat up in the high crotch and looked at the people so far below, through a mass of black needles toil a mighty thickness of strong limbs. It was a wonderful night. The sky was spangled with stars of vivid silver. Not a cloud was to be seen except on the western horizon, ​where a bank was piling up rapidly, silhouetted against the deep ultramarine of the sky, across which the Milky Way made a path of radiance. Eepersip, looking down among the powerful limbs, felt as if she were part of the familiar tree.
Poor Chippy and Snowflake were tired and sleepy after what they had just been through. Eepersip murmured kind words to them, while she thought of all that she had been through herself. She was not in the least dizzy, but she was tired, and she knew that she must not go to sleep up there.
Then she saw that Mr. Eigleen had started to climb the great tree. He got about half-way up and then stopped. She remembered the place: it had been difficult for her, too. There was not a limb where he could put out a foot and step on it; the next one was at the level of his neck. The question was, how could he get on to this limb? He didn't have the strength to pull himself up to it the way Eepersip had done. He tried for a long time; but his caution proved too much for him. At last, in despair, he descended; and the people went away, leaving Eepersip in peace.
As soon as they were well out of sight and hearing, Eepersip came down in a series of leaps from limb to limb. At length she got to the bottom, ​where the last limb was seven feet from the ground. She braced herself as firmly as she could on this, and then she jumped. It was a marvellous jump in the dark, and she landed on the ground unhurt, though very tired and covered with bits of bark. "My, that was a dreary adventure!" she said sleepily, as she crawled off to find a place to sleep
Eersip saw no more of the Brunios or her parents, and she decided that they had given up chasing her and Snowflake for the winter—a winter which she and her two friends spent undisturbed, playing with the leaves and shadows.
It was spring—spring before the third summer that Eepersip was to spend wild—and the golden sun melted away the last patches of snow from off the bare rocks and from round the pool, where it had lodged between them. It was warm, although a wind was blowing—the delicious wind of spring. This marvellous spring air made her blood course quickly. She felt extremely happy and dancy. Her body seemed to her lighter than ever, in spite of its strength. Her spirit was so joyous that she could not express it in action; she had to ​let part of it out in song. But song, however light and happy, could not quite express Eepersip's feeling. She danced, and she sang, and she leaped aloft for joy.
As the season advanced, she crowned herself with sweet-smelling flowers, and the butterflies came and lit on them. She went up the pool wearing her fluttering crown, and there she saw the flowers that had come to bloom. There was iris, purple and gold—huge blossoms which reminded Eepersip of the ocean as she had seen it, so far away, on the first day of her wandering. In a soft bed of green moss she found a little pink-and-white flower that she didn't know, bell-shaped and very fragrant. There were wild-rose-buds there, too, and never had Eepersip seen so many butterflies as were on those roses. They bordered the tiny beach, mingled with the tenderly uncurling green ferns. The delicate red leaf-buds on the maple-trees were now developing into tiny emerald leaves. And there were ever so many other treasures Nature there.
Eepersip played little happy games with all the creatures of the field. One game she played with the crickets. A cricket would be hiding in a certain place, and when Eepersip danced by he would buzz out of the grass into her face; she would pretend ​to be startled and would run from the spot. She played another game with the grasshoppers. One would be hiding, and Eepersip would come dancing by with her eyes shut. Then the grasshopper would whirr out of the grass and alight on her hand. When she opened her eyes she would shake her hand and try to get rid of him, all in fun, of course. Then sh e played two lovely games with the happy butterflies. She would let a butterfly alight on her hand, to which she would then give a violent jerk, so that the butterfly was sent sailing into the air; then, without a motion of the wings, he would come sailing back to Eepersip's hand. This they would do again and again. When she tired of this game, Eepersip would crown herself with the sweetest flowers she could find, and then flocks of butterflies would try to alight on her wreath as she danced. There were never enough flowers for all of them; some were always fluttering around Eepersip's head, trying to find a nestling-place, and others were safely folded in the blossoms.
One of the thrilling hours of Eepersip's happy life that summer was when she lay in the meadow watching the sky and all the swallows circling. Snowflake and Chippy were frolicking gayly in the short, dry grass, chasing leaves. Now Chippy snuggled up to Eepersip. Snowflake kept on ​playing; she was crouched on her little white belly, playing with a dry brown leaf, and when it drifted beyond her reach she would spring after it. Eepersip watched her in a dreamy way. Now Snowflake cast the dead leaf away, having torn it to shreds, and played with other things. Sometimes she would rear herself up into the air; at other times she would run with little tripping steps over to Eepersip, as if something had frightened her; again she would rush round and round Eepersip in a wide circle, and finally she would settle down to play with another dead leaf. It made Eepersip glad to hear the kitten's little pattering feet on the grass; she knew how madly Snowflake was frolicking, but she did not share in the play—instead, with a dreamy happiness, she watched the sky.
Another day in this summer was even happier. It was in July, and Eepersip was lying in a part of the meadow where there weren't many deer, so that the grass was long, soft, and green instead of stiff and short. Snowflake and Chippy were frolicking around in it, but again Eepersip was not thinking of them. She wast thinking the swallows that flew over her, and the way the sun shone on their breasts, making them glitter like silver. The crickets were chirping, and the grasshoppers were accompanying them, and they were both very ​happy. The frogs croaked bass songs from the pool—the cool, green frogs! The birds were singing merrily, and the butterflies passed over Eepersip's head in flocks—butterflies of white and purple and blue and yellow, little ones of copper-green, and big ones of orange and red. Some of them flew with short, quick flirts of the wings, others with long strokes which swept them through the air. The gauzy dragonflies, too, flew over her. Everything thrilled Eepersip's happy, tireless eyes.
The bees hummed their way low over the long green grass, and Chippy and Snowflake leaped high in the air when they passed. Eepersip had taught the two little animals not to catch the creatures of the field, and before long all the birds loved Snowflake—something that few kittens have yet attained. But Snowflake and Chippy liked to pretend to catch the bees, and sometimes they went so far as to hold them: on the ground with their paws, very gently, not hurting them at all. Snowflake and Chippy lay in the grass, reaching and touching anything that took their fancy. When the wind blew they would leap up at the clover-blossoms that nodded. They played hide-and-seek, leaping over the grasses and chasing each other in and out of their hiding-places. The long grass offered a splendid place of concealment. Chippy ​would scurry behind a big sheltering tuft, seeming to Snowflake to have vanished in mid-air. Snowflake would poke about and run in such bewildering circles that it tired them looking at each other. Soon they would get so mixed up that they wouldn’t know which of them was supposed to be hiding, and it often happened that they were both hiding at the same time, or both searching.
This was for Eepersip the happiest of that summer's hours in the field. Something fresh and fragrant in the air made breathing a delight; it almost lifted her off the ground, and she let forth a glorious burst of song.
It was a cold, frisky day in October, and Eepersip, even in her warm coat, had to keep moving. Snowflake and Chippy were frolicking and playing games with each other. Eepersip had taught them how to shake hands, and this they were practising. A leaf had settled on Snowflake's head like a brown crown, and she was trying vigorously to get it off. But no, the leaf was curled firmly around her small, dainty ears. She got wilder and wilder in her amusing efforts. She dashed round and round. She reached after it with her forepaws. All in vain! ​She could not get rid of that persistent leaf. But there! a gust of cold wind sent it flying from her head, to be instantly lost in a whirl of others which the wind had started up. Snowflake dashed among them madly, and played with them, trying to catch them all at the same time. But at last she stopped her foolish efforts and came quietly back to rest.
In November the first snow of the winter fell. The flakes came thick and fast, like white and silver butterflies dancing, flying. Eepersip took them in her hands and noticed how each flake had its own shape, which was never found again. During that day in October Snowflake had worn a brown crown of a dead leaf, but now she wore a white one. The snow didn't show much on the white fur of the kitten, but Chippy's autumn brown was soon covered with a mossy blanket of it. The flakes whirled down thicker and faster than ever, and Chippy tried to jump at them all. The playmates could hide in the snow now, for if they got far enough apart they couldn't see each other. They tried to capture the snowflakes, but they found that this made their paws even wetter.
In spite of all this merriment, Eepersip had a tightly sad feeling in her heart. The night before, she had seen the sea; and it had looked so glorious that she felt as if—as if she would Ike to go to it. ​She loved the meadow so much that this would be almost impossible for her. Yet she knew that, in spite of her love for the meadow. her longing for the sea would grow, and that one day she must leave her present home. All this made her rather sad. But she tried to be happy—to share the joy of her two little friends, and the joy of having the little fairy things come whirling down upon her. She played all day in the meadow with her friends, and when the evening fell they went back to the burrow and slept in peace till morning.
In this way the winter passed. Every evening at sunset Eepersip would go over to the edge of the meadow and gaze long upon the sea, with the brilliant sunset colours reflected in it. And each time she looked it seemed so beautiful, so beautiful! and each time she tried to go it, it seemed as if the ground of the meadow was a great magnet to her feet.
The spring came, and with it the flowers and leaves.
One night Eepersip woke up to find the full moon as if hanging in the sky. A few faint stars could be seen. She tried to go to sleep, but could not. At last she got up from her bed of moss. The dew lay thick on the grass, which slushed deliciously against her bare feet. All entranced with ​the beauty of the night, she ran lightly over to the spot where she often had a view of the sea. And she beheld it with the full moon reflected in it—a globe of soft silver, shimmering and quivering in the unstill waters. This time it was too much for Eepersip. She could stand it no longer—her heart gave way. She decided that the next morning she would satisfy her longing.
And so, just after dawn, she left her beautiful home in the field and journeyed toward the ocean. She went to the edge of the meadow with a herd of deer daintily tripping after her. She turned and cried: "Good-bye, O deer! for probably I shall never see you again." She kissed the ground of the meadow, and she wept to think that she was leaving it; but she knew that her love for the sea had become greater than her love for the meadow. And then she went away—sadly, yet happy at the prospect of a new and beautiful life by the foaming, churning rocks and the white-capped waves.