216 
NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 
out in the shrubbery was decidedly early for the 
season, but most opportune, and the occupants 
of the Dayton porch laughed appreciatively. 
“ Score one for Katy,” exulted Tommy de¬ 
lightedly, “ even if she did! ” 
“ Did what? ” queried Ruth, round-eyed. 
“ Aye, what,” Auntie murmured, “ for ages we 
have been querying that. Isn’t it Oliver Wendell 
Holmes who says: 
“ Peace to the ever-murmuring race! 
And when the last one 
Shall fold in death her feeble wings, 
Beneath the autumn’s sun, 
Then shall she raise her fainting voice, 
And lift her drooping lid, 
And the children of future years 
Shall hear what Katy did.” 
“ I doubt if we ever know, chicken,” said Uncle 
John, smiling at Auntie, and stooping to swing 
Ruthie up on his knee, “ Dr. Holmes to the con¬ 
trary notwithstanding. He was a very wise man, 
but he did not know much about katydids, that is 
certain, for he proclaimed: 
66 Thou art a female Katy-did! 
I know it by the trill 
That quivers through thy piercing 
notes, 
So petulant and shrill. 
“And all who know katydids know that the 
females never make a sound! Whatever it was 
