At last, in one of its
awkward zigzags, it managed to fly right into my face, and, by the time
I had recovered from the shock, the little Fairy was gone.
I looked about in all directions for the little creature, but there was
no trace of her--and my 'eerie' feeling was quite gone off, and the
crickets were chirping again merrily--so I knew she was really gone.
And now I've got time to tell you the rule about the crickets.
They always leave off chirping when a Fairy goes by--because a Fairy's a
kind of queen over them, I suppose--at all events it's a much grander
thing than a cricket--so whenever you're walking out, and the crickets
suddenly leave off chirping, you may be sure that they see a Fairy.
I walked on sadly enough, you may be sure. However, I comforted myself
with thinking "It's been a very wonderful afternoon, so far. I'll just
go quietly on and look about me, and I shouldn't wonder if I were to
come across another Fairy somewhere."
Peering about in this way, I happened to notice a plant with rounded
leaves, and with queer little holes cut in the middle of several of
them. "Ah, the leafcutter bee!" I carelessly remarked--you know I am
very learned in Natural History (for instance, I can always tell
kittens from chickens at one glance)--and I was passing on, when a
sudden thought made me stoop down and examine the leaves.
Then a little thrill of delight ran through me --for I noticed that the
holes were all arranged so as to form letters; there were three leaves
side by side, with "B," "R," and "U" marked on them, and after some
search I found two more, which contained an "N" and an "O.
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