A HOME IN A WILLOW TREE 



149 



ground. I couldn't help noticing that the twigs 

 which bore cones seemed to have lost interest and 

 did not lengthen as the free ones did. 



It was some weeks before I was able to go 

 down and sit by the willows again, and in the 

 meantime the leaves had come out and the trees 

 looked very flourishing. I searched for traces of 

 my pine cones, but not one 

 whole one was to be seen. 

 I examined the twigs which 

 had been forming that spring, 

 and was amazed to discover 

 little knobs at their ends, 

 just where the terminal bud 

 should be. They were round 

 knobs, and the scales of which 

 they were made were grown 

 very 4ghtly together. This 

 was too much for me and 

 I determined to consult the 

 Botanist. I knew he was acquainted with wil- 

 lows, for it was ^he who had told me that some 

 of the pussies grew up into catkins full of fluffy 

 willow seeds. 



The Botanist shook his head and referred me 

 to the Entomologist. 



This good man, who had worked with his "little 

 people" so many years that I always fancied that 

 he had grown to look just like them, peered at 

 me over his spectacles (Why do they always wear 

 spectacles?), took the willow twigs from my hand 

 and told me — 



A CAGE FOR STUDYING GALLS 



