146 GERTRUDE.

to ask for more; then they will wonder why I want it, and
every one will ask questions,” for she guarded her secret most
carefully.

“ How I should love to paint a really green tree!” she went
on; “mine all have to be gray or purple. They do look so
sometimes, but green is much more apt to be the color.” She
put down her brush—made of the ends of her own hair, bound
tightly upon a stick—and sat with chin in hand looking out
the window. The rain was falling steadily; there were puddles
all about the yard and a sodden appearance about the build-
ings; the chickens stood around with forlornly drooping
feathers, only the ducks were having a good time paddling
about. Gertrude sat watching them.

“How yellow the water is in the puddles! I wonder if
it would be any use to try it,’ she said. Slipping down the
stairs and through the kitchen, she took an empty tin can to
the yard and filled it from the yellowest puddle, carrying it
carefully back to her retreat. Joy of joys! it left a yellow
stain upon the paper when she tried it, for she had happened
upon a small deposit of ochre which had washed down in the
puddle. Gertrude could hardly believe her good fortune ; and
although her greens were not remarkable for brilliancy, they
were really greens, and Gertrude had a most exciting time the
rest of the afternoon..

“Why, Gertrude, what makes your eyes so bright?” said
her father, pinching her cheek, when he came in to supper.