HOW THE GRASS GREW 35 



"You brought me further than from the mill 

 woods," said a thin, piping voice. " I sprouted 

 two years ago, and I was so lonely, but I'm very 

 thin and small, hardly bigger than my brothers 

 of this spring." 



"Who are you?" said Tommy-Anne. "Are 

 you a tree ? You and your brothers look like 

 little whisps of moss." 



" A tree ? of course I am, and a very important 

 tree too ; a Christmas tree, or at least my 

 mother was." And the little Spruce paused 

 proudly, as if nothing more could be said in its 

 praise. 



" Then you must have come from Wild Cat Moun- 

 tain ; Christmas trees do not grow any nearer," she 

 replied, looking down with great respect at the 

 few dark green bristles that represented the tree. 



"Yes, our family has lived there for centuries; 

 I was a seed in a cone that Rattle brought home ; 

 he stripped it and ate all the other seeds, then 

 dropped the cone, thinking it finished ; that is 

 why there is only one of me. Last year cones 

 were in plenty. Rattle was careless, and scat- 

 tered so many about here that now I have many 

 companions." 



"They do not grow as the Oak did; they 

 have six little green fingers instead of leaves." 



