wrapping. Katy stared in wide-mouthed amazement.

"I was just tickled over that because Miss Eileen saw a good-
looking and capable young man leave a second package, right on
the heels of young Whiting," she said. "Whatever have ye got,
lambie? What does that mean?"

Linda held up a beautiful box of glass, inside of which could be
seen swarming specimens of every bug, beetle, insect, and worm
that Henry Anderson had been able to collect in Heaven only knew
what hours of search. Linda opened the box. The winged
creatures flew, the bettles tumbled, the worms went over the top.
She set it on the ground and laughed to exhaustion. Her eyes
were wet as she looked up at Katy.

"That first night Henry Anderson and Peter Morrison were here to
dinner, Katy," she said, "Anderson made a joke about being my
bug-catcher when I built my home nest, and several times since he
has tried to be silly about it, but the last time I told him it
was foolishness to which I would listen no more, so instead of
talking, he has taken this way of telling me that he is fairly
expert as a bug-catcher. Really, it is awfully funny, Katy."

Katy was sober. She showed no appreciation of the fun.

"Ye know, lambie," she said, her hands on her hips, her elbows
wide-spread, her jaws argumentative, "I've done some blarneying
with that lad, an' I've fed him some, because he was doin' things
that would help an' please ye, but now I'm tellin' ye, just like
I'll be tellin' ye till I die, I ain't STRONG for him. If ever