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The old mother cat lay on the grass blinking pleasantly at the setting sun; the kittens frisked and played with the grass-stem in Evelyn Erith's fingers, or chased their own ratty little tails in a perfect orgy of feline excitement. Long bluish shadows spread delicate traceries on wall and grass; the sweet, persistent whistle of a blackbird intensified the calm of evening.
He could lie for hours, chewing a grass-stem, patient as a convalescent, while sun and air did their work upon him. "Why do you never preach to me?" he said suddenly, and he peeped mischievously from tinder his cap. "Why should I preach to you? Because I am religious? Well, so are you; every one who rejoices and is content is religious."
Walking one day back of the house, I observed a number of small holes, with a little shining head just visible in each, which vanished at my approach. Looking closer, I was surprised to find a colony of tropical doodle-bugs. Straightway I chose a grass-stem and squatting, began fishing as I had fished many years ago in the southern states.
He could lie for hours, chewing a grass-stem, patient as a convalescent, while sun and air did their work upon him. "Why do you never preach to me?" he said suddenly, and he peeped mischievously from tinder his cap. "Why should I preach to you? Because I am religious? Well, so are you; every one who rejoices and is content is religious."
A winter sunbeam pierced the screen of woodbine, and, for a moment, shed the warmth of springtime on the nest. His whiskers gave a feeble flicker in response. Next day the treacherous radiance lingered. He unclenched one fist, and wound four tiny fingers round a grass-stem. The sunbeam had reached his heart. Yet it was a full hour before he was conscious that he lived.
They sprang back with a jerk, but the insect itself remained motionless. Grasshoppers clung to every other grass-stem; their eyes were dead and staring. Here and there he saw a spider gripping its support and waiting for the sunrise. Once he found himself confronted by a bloated toad. The amphibian surveyed him solemnly, but never moved. A low hiss whistled through the grass.
Sound a bugle beat a drum?" Torps smiled faintly. "Something of the sort no, not a drum; a bugle, perhaps." "Well, we'll suppose it is a drum. One somehow associates it with war and alarms. Would you hesitate to obey?" Torps refrained from the obvious answer and plucked a grass-stem to put between his teeth.
Mount gave a round double rap, chewed his grass-stem, considered, then rapped again, humming to himself in an under-tone: "Is the old fox in? Is the old fox out? Is the old fox gone to Glo-ry? Oh, he's just come in, But he's just gone out, And I hope you like my sto-ry! Tink-a-diddle-diddle-diddle, Tink-a-diddle-diddle-dum " "Rap louder," I said.
It is not the wind that weaves; it is a multitude of small spiders. Here is one close to my face, out at the tip of a slender grass-stem, holding on with its fore legs and kicking out backward with its hind legs a tiny skein of web off into the air.
But the effect is to reduce its size and shape to a narrow ridge, making an acute angle with the grass-stem, hardly distinguishable in shape and colour from the seed-heads on thousands of other stems around. The butterfly also sleeps on the top of the stem, which increases its likeness to the natural finial of the grass.
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