“Oh fie!  No.  What do you think it was, Nelly?”

“Wasn’t it old Pan and Sylvanus, who were astonished to hear such a noise in their woods?”

“No, you haven’t got it right either.  What do you say, Janie?”

“Well, I guess it was the shadows of evening, coming down the hill-side.”

“That’s it—­and we were very much surprised to find it so, for the time had passed very quickly and pleasantly.  We gathered up our things, and started for home.  But first we stopped under the old acorn-tree, and sung ‘a song to the oak, the brave old oak.’  We didn’t know the right tune, and so we sung it to the air of ’there is nae luck about the house.’  It wasn’t the music we cared so much about, as the beautiful words, they were so pretty and appropriate.

“Well, we did not go into the woods much, after this, for we had a great many other things to take up our minds.  Charlie and I went to school, and father needed Alfred to help him all the time.

“I have told you how we found the hollow and how much we enjoyed ourselves there; now I will tell you what became of it.”

“What became of it!  Why! did it catch afire and burn up?”

“No.”

“Did it blow away in a strong north wind?”

“No.”

“Did it get filled up with dust and dry leaves, or did you forget the way there, and never find it again?  What did become of it?”

“Well, let me tell you.  It was one of those beautiful spring days—­when we feel that we cannot possibly stay at home, and our feet will run away with us, in spite of ourselves—­that the old spirit and desire for rambling came over us once more, and away we started for the woods.  ‘Which way will you go?’ said Alfred as we stopped at a place where two roads led in different directions.  ‘Acorn Hollow,’ was the answer of all; and accordingly we went that way.  But oh, wonder of wonders!  How we stood by the once loved spot, and stared at each other, and rubbed our eyes, and looked again and again.  Where were the beautiful trees that grew so closely side by side, intermingling their foliage, and locking their arms together like loving brothers and sisters?  Where was the ‘brave old oak,’ that had stood there with his broad green arms outstretched, and shook his myriad leaves whenever we came, as if he loved us children, and welcomed us to a resting-place in his shadow.  And where was the soft green carpet of moss and tender grass that was spread out so beautifully at the bottom of the hollow?  It was all changed, as if the breath of an evil spirit had blown upon it.  ‘Isn’t it too bad!’ we all exclaimed; and after we had given expression to our feelings by these few words, we proceeded to a closer examination.  All the trees along the hill-side had been cut down, and little piles of wood were put up, to carry away.  The May flowers were all dried up in the sun, and the ground pine and bear’s grass were as sere and yellow as the autumn leaves.