I stopped him, as he was dragging it off by the tail to show me how it
was used, for I was half afraid the "eerie" feeling might go off before
we had finished the garden, and in that case I should see no more of
him or Sylvie.

"I think the best way will be for _you_ to weed the beds, while _I_
sort out these pebbles, ready to mark the walks with."

"That's it!" cried Bruno. "And I'll tell you about the caterpillars
while we work."

"Ah, let's hear about the caterpillars," I said, as I drew the pebbles
together into a heap, and began dividing them into colors.

And Bruno went on in a low, rapid tone, more as if he were talking to
himself. "Yesterday I saw two little caterpillars, when I was sitting
by the brook, just where you go into the wood. They were quite g'een,
and they had yellow eyes, and they didn't see _me_. And one of them
had got a moth's wing to carry--a g'eat b'own moth's wing, you know,
all d'y, with feathers. So he couldn't want it to eat, I should
think--perhaps he meant to make a cloak for the winter?"

"Perhaps," I said, for Bruno had twisted up the last word into a sort
of question, and was looking at me for an answer.

One word was quite enough for the little fellow, and he went on,
merrily:

"Well, and so he didn't want the other caterpillar to see the moth's