VI 



THE STOEY AVE LOVE BEST 



BRANCH of sumac with its drum- 

 major plumes, a bough of elder 

 bending under its load of dai-k- 

 hued berries, a raspberry bramble, 

 low trailing and graceful ; these 

 were my trophies from ' woodland 

 one sunny October afternoon, and to the uninitiated they 

 doubtless would seem but random and commonplace 

 mementos of an autumn ramble. But these branches, 

 seemingly uninteresting and aimlessly gathered, have 

 been the scenes of great toil, brave deeds, faithful devo- 

 tion, and also, alas, of treachery and tragedy. I will 

 relate to you the history revealed by these broken 

 boughs — a history to discover which has required 

 many patient hours of watching by eyes that loved 

 the work. 



One morning last May, had you been watching, you 

 might have seen a little insect, not more than a fourth 

 of an inch long flitting about these branches, her body 

 metallic blue, and her four gauzy wings flashing in the 



108 



