Page:The Story of Opal.djvu/127

 and more little birds and wood-mouses and wood-rats. In fall-time days Peter Paul Rubens did come here with me when I did bring seeds and nuts to this box for days of hiver. When we were come to the box, I did have more thinks of him. I think the soul of Peter Paul Rubens is not afar. I think it is in the forest. I go looking for it. I climb up in the trees. I call and call. And then when I find it not, I do print a message on a leaf, and I tie it onto the highest limb I can reach. And I leave it there with a little prayer for Peter Paul Rubens. I do miss him so.

To-day, after I so did leave a message on a leaf away up in a tree for him, I did have going in along the lane and out across the field and down the road beyond the meeting of the roads. There was grayness everywhere—gray clouds in the sky and gray shadows above and in the canyon. And all the voices that did speak—they were gray tones. " Petite Françoise, c'est jour gris. " And all the little lichens I did see along the way did seem a very part of all the grayness. And Felix Mendelssohn in my apron pocket—he was a part of the grayness, too. And as I did go adown the road, I did meet with a gray horse—and his grayness was like the grayness of William Shakespeare. Then I did turn about. I did turn my face to the near woods where is William Shakespeare.

When Rob Ryder is n't looking, I give to William Shakespeare pieces of apple and I pull grass for him.