"How I should like to have seen you!" laughed Hinpoha as she
painted Migwan sprawling on the ground. "Haven't you some more
stuff I can illustrate? There's such a lot of paint mixed up.
Oh, here's another one," she said, turning over the pages:

"I am sitting in the woods near Sandy Beach. Have been gathering
blueberries and my cup runneth over. The sun has turned the
beach into a Sahara, but here in the woods it is dim and cool and
pleasant. I am leaning against a big tree with my feet stretched
out in front of me. There is a spider weaving a web from one
foot to the other. I hate to break down his handiwork, or
rather, his footiwork, but I can't stay here forever, much as I
would like to. He ought to have been more careful about getting
a clear title to his property before building. This will teach
him a lesson, I think.

"Just now a tiny red squirrel ran down a tree, paused beside me,
gave an impertinent whisk of his tail and disappeared. 'Lazy
girl,' he seemed to say, 'idling away this beautiful summer
weather when you ought to be storing nuts for the winter. You'll
repent when the snow begins to fly. Idle in summer, hungry in
winter.' With a disapproving cough he disappeared.

"There is a blueberry bush nearby hanging full of large luscious
berries. I never saw blueberries in their native wilds before. I
had a sort of hazy notion that blueberries grew in quart boxes in
market stalls."

"That reminds me," said Hinpoha suddenly, "it must be getting
near time for our promised trip to Blueberry Island." She