July, and Eepersip was lying in a part of the meadow where there weren’t many deer, so that the grass was long, soft, and green instead of stiff and short. Snowflake and Chippy were frolicking around in it, but again Eepersip was not thinking of them. She was thinking of the swallows that flew over her, and the way the sun shone on their breasts, making them glitter like silver. The crickets were chirping, and the grasshoppers were accompanying them, and they were both very happy. The frogs croaked bass songs from the pool⁠—the cool, green frogs! The birds were singing merrily, and the butterflies passed over Eepersip’s head in flocks⁠—butterflies of white and purple and blue and yellow, little ones of copper-green, and big ones of orange and red. Some of them flew with short, quick flirts of the wings, others with long strokes which swept them through the air. The gauzy dragonflies, too, flew over her. Everything thrilled Eepersip’s happy, tireless eyes.

The bees hummed their way low over the long green grass, and Chippy and Snowflake leaped high in the air when they passed. Eepersip had taught the two little animals not to catch the creatures of the field, and before long all the birds loved Snowflake⁠—something that few kittens have yet attained. But Snowflake and Chippy liked to pretend to catch the bees, and sometimes they went so far as to hold them: on the ground with their paws, very gently, not hurting them at all. Snowflake and Chippy lay in the grass, reaching and touching anything that took their fancy. When the wind blew they would leap up at the clover-blossoms that nodded. They played hide-and-seek, leaping over the grasses and chasing each other in and out of their hiding-places. The long grass offered a splendid place of concealment. Chippy would scurry behind a big sheltering tuft, seeming to Snowflake to have vanished in midair. Snowflake would poke about and run in such bewildering circles that it tired them looking at each other. Soon they would get so mixed up that they wouldn’t know which of them was supposed to be hiding, and it often happened that they were both hiding at the same time, or both searching.

This was for Eepersip the happiest of that summer’s hours in the field. Something fresh and fragrant in the air made breathing a delight; it almost lifted her off the ground, and she let forth a glorious burst of song.


It was a cold, frisky day in October, and Eepersip, even in her warm coat, had to keep moving. Snowflake and Chippy were frolicking and playing games with each other. Eepersip had taught them how to shake hands, and this they were practising. A leaf had settled on Snowflake’s head like a brown crown, and she was trying vigorously to get it off. But no, the leaf was curled firmly around her small, dainty ears. She got wilder and wilder in her amusing efforts. She dashed round and round. She reached after it with her forepaws. All in vain! She could not get rid of that persistent leaf. But there! a gust of cold wind sent it flying from her head, to be instantly lost in a whirl of others which the wind had started up. Snowflake dashed among them madly, and played with them, trying to catch them all at the same time. But at last she stopped her foolish efforts and came quietly back to rest.

In November the first snow of the winter fell. The flakes came thick and fast, like white and silver butterflies dancing, flying. Eepersip took them in her hands and noticed how each flake had its own shape, which was never found again. During that day in October Snowflake had worn a brown crown of a dead leaf, but now she wore a white one. The snow didn’t show much on the white fur of the kitten, but Chippy’s autumn brown was soon covered with a mossy blanket of it. The flakes whirled down thicker and faster than ever, and Chippy tried to jump at them all. The playmates could hide in the snow now, for if they got far enough apart they couldn’t see each other. They tried to capture the snowflakes, but they found that this made their paws even wetter.

In spite of all this merriment, Eepersip had a slightly sad feeling in her heart. The night before, she had seen the sea; and it had looked so glorious that she felt as if⁠—as if she would like to go to it. She loved the meadow so much that this would be almost impossible for her. Yet she knew that, in spite of her love for the meadow, her longing for the sea would grow, and that one day she must leave her present home. All this made her rather sad. But she tried to be happy⁠—to share the joy of her two little friends, and the joy of having the little fairy things come whirling down upon her. She played all day in the meadow with her friends, and when the evening fell they went back to the burrow and slept in peace till morning.

In this way the winter passed. Every evening at sunset Eepersip would go over to the edge of the meadow and gaze long upon the sea, with the brilliant sunset colours reflected in it. And each time she looked it seemed so beautiful, so beautiful! and each time she tried to go to it, it seemed as if the ground of the meadow was a great magnet to her feet.

The spring came, and with it the flowers and leaves.

One night Eepersip woke up to find the full moon as if hanging in the sky. A few faint stars could be seen. She tried to go to sleep, but could not. At last she got up from her bed of moss. The dew lay thick on the grass, which slushed deliciously against her bare feet. All entranced with

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