THE FIRST DAY IN JUNE m 



ing, and other insects that I had never seen before 

 cried out with very shrill voices. I heard a tree- 

 toad croaking and thought it might rain before we 

 found Little Trudy. 



Michael said: " Perhaps she didn't go after 

 blue flowers." 



When we came out on the road again he called 

 to a man driving a cart to know if he had seen 

 a little girl anywhere. 



" There's one now, down in that 'ere swamp 

 with them blue flowers," the man answered, and 

 pointed the way. 



Michael took me up on his shoulder then and 

 carried me, for the field before the swamp is hard 

 and rough for walking. 



Little Trudy was in the swamp, but we were 

 there a long time before we found her. Her 

 dress was just the color of the twilight, and if it 

 had not been for her black hair we might not 

 have seen her at all. Everything was still and 

 looked like a mist. She had gone quite away into 

 the swamp, and Michael knew she must be very 

 wet. It was hard to keep on the little hills of 

 grass, and some of them were farther apart than 

 Trudy could jump. 



It looked almost as though she had been picking 

 blue flowers. In her hand she held a long stem of 

 something. I could see it was not a Cat-tail, nor 

 one of the long grasses that fill the swamp. But 

 I knew I should have to wait until later to find 



