'As I was walking along by the brookside, I saw a snake making its
way through the bushes, and--'

'Goodness!' shrieked Polly, 'I shall not write there, thank you.'

'Goose! Just wait a minute. I looked at it, and followed at a
distance; it was a harmless little thing; and I thought, for the fun
of it, I would just push blindly on and see what I should find,
because we are for ever walking in the beaten path, and I long for
something new.'

'A bad instinct,' remarked Madge, 'and one which will get you into
trouble, so you should crush it in its infancy.'

'Well, I took up my dress and ploughed through the chaparral, until I
came, in about three minutes of scratching and fighting, to an open
circular place about as large as this tent. It was exactly round,
which is the curious part of it; and in the centre was one stump,
covered with moss and surrounded by great white toadstools. How any
one happened to go in there and cut down a single tree I can't
understand, nor yet how they managed to bring out the tree through
the tangled brush. It is so strange that it seems as if there must
be a mystery about it.'

'Certainly,' said Margery promptly. 'A tragedy of the darkest kind!
Some cruel wretch has cut down, in the pride and pomp of it beauty,
one sycamore-tree; its innocent life-blood has stained the ground,
and given birth to the white toadstools which mark the spot and
testify to the purity of the victim.'