He walked mostly, at times he rode a wheel.
"Some days his face was dreadfully sad, others it was so determined a
little child could see the force in it, and once he was radiant. That
day the Swamp Angel was with him. I can't tell you what she was like. I
never saw any one who resembled her. He stopped close here to show her a
bird's nest. Then they went on to a sort of flower-room he had made, and
he sang for her. By the time he left, I had gotten bold enough to come
out on the trail, and I met the big Scotchman Freckles lived with. He
saw me catching moths and butterflies, so he took me to the flower-room
and gave me everything there. I don't dare come alone often, so I can't
keep it up as he did, but you can see something of how it was."
Elnora led the way and Philip followed. The outlines of the room were
not distinct, because many of the trees were gone, but Elnora showed how
it had been as nearly as she could.
"The swamp is almost ruined now," she said. "The maples, walnuts, and
cherries are all gone. The talking trees are the only things left worth
while."
"The 'talking trees!' I don't understand," commented Philip.
"No wonder!" laughed Elnora. "They are my discovery. You know all trees
whisper and talk during the summer, but there are two that have so much
to say they keep on the whole winter, when the others are silent. The
beeches and oaks so love to talk, they cling to their dead, dry leaves.
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