ing restlessly; their nestlings were all full feathered and ready for mating.
Katydids and crickets creaked a few faint words over and over, speaking sadly to each other before frost came and silenced them for the winter. Morning-glory vines sprawled everywhere, on the hedge rows, on the old rail fence, around the stalks of corn in the field, holding up white-throated blossoms to the light, patiently striving to make all the seed they could before their time was out.
The path dwindled as it dropped down sidewise between the shoulders of two hills, running over gnarled tree roots and rocks that jutted up out of the clay on to a hollow where the clear little spring bubbled out.
Tall poplars and sweet-gums clutched at the dark earth with black crooked roots, but they flaunted purple and scarlet and yellow heads up in the face of the sky. With every stir of air a shower of gay leaves fell, some to lie still on the ground while others, alighting on the tiny stream, floated away, slowly at first, then faster and faster as the bright current hurried to reach the great yellow river.
Mary sat down on a rock and watched the water trickle out of the shining pool. She was so still the shy birds grew bold and came to
