ALONG THE BROOK IN MARCH 219 



half dozen nuts which rolled away down the bank. 

 Thinking their behavior rather suspicious, and will- 

 ing to be diverted from my fruitless search, I fol- 

 lowed. Picking them up, I read their story at a 

 glance. A squirrel is certainly a dainty eater. Every 

 nook and crevice of the butternut was as clean as 

 possible. I could not have done so well with a nut- 

 pick or even with a hat pin. The hard rough sides 

 of the nuts were eaten off and the sweet oily 

 kernels deftly extracted. Some had ragged holes 

 in both sides ; in others the woody partition between 

 the halves of the nut had been gnawed away and 

 the "goody" taken out. Filling my pocket with 

 the shells and rejoicing in the thrill they gave me 

 when my hand from force of habit sought com- 

 fort in those depths, I followed the path to the 

 top of the hill, where it dipped into an unknown 

 tangle of underbrush, leaving me in the open road 

 in sight of my own dwelling. It was as if I had 

 been politely bowed out! 



Accepting my dismissal gracefully, I hastened 

 home to show my treasures to the Doctor and to 

 gloat over my right of discovery. Imagine my 

 feelings when he greeted me triumphantly and 

 presented me with "the first hepatica of the year"! 



I was about to show my treasures when that 

 exasperating man drew forth from one of his cav- 

 ernous pockets a handful of gnawed nut-shells 

 exactly like mine ! But he had to confess that he 

 had not seen a Mourning Cloak, nor any wood- 

 pecker's holes, no skunk cabbage and horse-tail, 

 nor had he discovered a new brook. 



