FLUFF-BUTTON THE RABBIT 113 
Only an occasional robin sang a bar or two of his 
roundelay, or a chiff-chaff, who had forgotten the 
rhythm of his call, cried ' chaff-chaff ' in the beech 
trees. Big spikes of purple loosestrife crowned the 
damper clearings, and missel thrushes went out to 
the fields in straggling bands. The mornings grew 
cooler and later, damp mists steamed up from the 
river, and the beeches began to turn orange and 
brown. One fine night the cuckoos disappeared, 
and the corn-crakes prepared to follow them, for 
the corn was ripe, and all through the hazy days 
the whirr of machinery was heard from the hills, 
like some gigantic grasshopper. The squirrels and 
oxeyes squabbled in the hazels, and the badgers 
went harvesting when the moon rose. To the Fur 
Folk the autumn was a faint echo of the spring. 
There was something in the mild, still weather, and 
equal hours of day and night, which stirred them 
to vague repetition of their doings early in the year. 
The rabbits wandered away from their burrows, 
and made desultory scrapings by the pathsides, 
and the birds, the throstle and pigeon, sang again 
half heartedly. The White Rabbit, with no idea 
why she did so, also dutifully scratched little holes 
in the moss, and followed faint trails which led 
nowhere in particular. However, the first frost put 
an end to all this ; and after the frosts came the 
