in 



THE BLANCHING, LAUGHING ASPEN 



spot, one day when, having caught up his scent, he was 

 rushing with a whoop to the capture of his bush. The 

 Aspens, up to that instant quite placid, palely green, 

 grew all at once white with excitement and nodded their 

 heads to each other / after which came the noise of their 

 leaves/ not the -honest rustle of green 

 trees, but derisive laughter/ sounds, too, 

 weirdly human, ringing as though 

 mockery of the discomfited invader. 

 Mark you, there is something decidedly, 

 uncanny in the deportment of the Aspen' 

 and its gracile, long-stalked trembling 

 leaves, the white undersides of which 

 any puff of wind exposes simultane- 

 ously to view turning, on the instant, 

 the whole of the green to foaming 

 silver. There was no doubt about 

 the matter then. These paling and 

 odd rustling trees completely 

 overawed Master Louis <Louis 

 is Loki's grandpa's baptismal 

 name, now sunk into disuse), 

 though, in his budding masculine 

 pride, he kept the secret of his 

 abhorrence very close within his 

 own little bosom. t 



On one occasion, however, when he had had to make 

 up his mind to walk past the blanching, murmuring group 

 unless he were prepared <which he was not) to explain 

 the nature of his objection, he asked, with a fair show 

 of indifference, what manner of tree it was which " made 



57 



