and start the little Thunder Bird off, to
fly up a couple of hundred miles, or so,
with its diary in its cone-shaped head,
and send back that novel explorer's log,
the little recording apparatus, attached
to a black silk parachute--the first, the
very first record from the outer realm of@
space.

No wonder that old Greylock sent her
back a shout of gladness now, as, squirming
in the Chair, she turned her gaze
away from the distant mountain to green
meadow slopes, to the right, where the
broadest silver ribbon, intertwined with
the matchless landscape, showed where
the Housatonic River, the blue Housatonic,
flowed and sang.

"Oh, dear! I wouldn't have missed
this for anything," she exulted silently.
"But the idea of that perfectly horrid
boy actually daring me to do it! He
didn't mean to, but he did--strutting
off, like that, crowing about his climbing!
As if a girl were--gingerbread! Well--"
[[81]]

p080 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p081w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p082

v?