158 THE BUTTERFLY HUNTERS. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



THE BUTTERFLY FESTIVAL. 



UMMER was past. All along the roadside 

 the Solidago and bright blue Asters, the 

 last wild-flowers of the year, lifted their 

 blossoms to meet .the Autumn sun, and on 

 every hillside stood clumps of Oak and 

 Maple resplendent in their coats of maroon, 

 and yellow, and scarlet. 



These days were golden indeed to Annie Webb. She 

 sat in her chamber watching the hazy Autumn sunlight 

 brooding over the hills, while the scarlet leaves of the 

 Woodbine over the window drifted in and lighted now 

 on her hair, now on the carpet at her feet. She had 

 walked about her chamber, but had not yet ventured to 

 go down the stairs. One day she stood looking out inl^ 

 the yard where the bright yellow leaves from the Ash- 

 trees before the house lay all about in heaps. 



"O mother," said she, suddenly, "when I have heard 

 the dry leaves rustle as Johnny ran over them, I have 

 always longed to walk among them myself Don't you 

 think I might try to go out in the yard to-day ? " 



" Yes, Annie," said her mother, " I think you might try. 



