FLOWERS OF THE SUN 239 



It was a sparkling day. A keen breeze out of 

 a cloudless sky kept everything a -titter. The grass 

 greens were still of Summer freshness, but here and 

 there a Pepperidge, Scarlet Oak, or Sumac thicket, 

 a Maple or a Trailing Creeper, showed the Autumn 

 coat of many colors which soon would wrap the 

 countryside. The perfumes of the way were not 

 born of Elderflowers, Clethra, or Milkweed balls, 

 but of the spice of ripened grapes heated through 

 by the sun's ardor. 



In wooded lanes the leaves shook with the 

 pattering sound of rain as in the Springtime. Out 

 in the open the long grasses swished forwards and 

 backwards with the crisp, sweeping sound that fol- 

 lows the scythe. Quail coveys, protected by the 

 close season, often ran fearlessly along the roadside, 

 then rising in unison, with a whirr as of one pair 

 of wings, dropped, and disappeared in the fields, 

 where the corn was already cut and stacked. 

 Flocks of mixed warblers that were feeding and 

 waiting for night to continue their migration, fid- 

 geted about restlessly, and high in the clear sky 

 a company of broad -tailed hawks were soaring in 

 wondrous circles, after their Autumn and Winter 

 fashion, as if for pure pleasure. 



"There is a new color," said Flower Hat, laying 



