GERTRUDE. . 145

of the seat to match one broken one, was an excellent thing
to sit upon.

One rainy day Gertrude repaired to her roost, as she called
it; the boys were in the wood-house making some indescrib-
able something out of an old wheel, a pulley, and some bits of
board. The dolls never cared to be played with on rainy
days in summer, for it was much more amusing to be out of
doors, where there were birds and butterflies and. flowers, than
in the house with a lot of stupid people about. So Gertrude
thought, at least, and she therefore seldom en with her
dolls on rainy days.

“T know what I shall do,” said Gertrude: “I ail paint.”
Painting was a great amusement, and a great secret; the paints
were of the most remarkable description, and were not. many
in number,—blue, red, pink, and black. Gertrude longed for
yellow, but she did not know of what to make it, for all her
paints were of her own making; the blue was indigo left in a
bottle which had been had for laundry use; the red was brick-
dust pounded very fine and mixed with water; the pink was
the juice of pokeberries, and the black was ink. Gertrude
had tried vainly to discover something which would make
yellow,—flowers, butterflies’ wings, the juice of fruits; but
nothing turned out right, and she was obliged to hold to the
very simple palette she had manufactured.

“Oh, dear!” said the little girl, as she drew out her mix-

tures, “my blue is almost gone, and I am afraid I shall have
: K