myself, but.... When will the well be done?"

"The well is done. We're going to start on the trench tomorrow."

"And how long will that take to do?"

"About a week. Then the man can come and lay the pipes."

"No! really?"

I said my thanks and went out. Fruen had a way she had kept, no doubt,
from earlier years; now and again she would glance at one sideways, though
there was nothing the least bit artful in what she said....

Now the woods showed a yellowing leaf here and there, and earth and air
began to smell of autumn. Only the fungus growths were now at their best,
shooting up everywhere, and flourishing fine and thick on woolly stems--
milk mushrooms, and the common sort, and the brown. Here and there a
toadstool thrust up its speckled top, flaming its red all unashamed. A
wonderful thing! Here it is growing on the same spot as the edible sorts,
fed by the same soil, given sun and rain from heaven the same as they;
rich and strong it is, and good to eat, save, only, that it is
full of impertinent muscarin. I once thought of making up a fine old story
about the toadstool, and saying I had read it in a book.

It has always been a pleasure to me to watch the flowers and insects in
their struggle to keep alive. When the sun was hot they would come to life
again, and give themselves up for an hour or so to the old delight; the
big, strong flies were just as much alive as in midsummer. There was a
peculiar sort of earth-bug here that I had not seen before--little yellow