SELMA--Why, there's no kernel in it. If there were They could not eat it; it would break their gills, They are so very thin. OSWALD-- We all do that; We follow shells sometimes. SELMA-- O Oswald, look! See how the little silver bubbles rise. OSWALD--And we are like the fishes-- SELMA-- Oh, do look! You are not thinking of the fishes. See! They follow it through the dimples round and round, Paddling the current with their little fins, And poising. They're afraid. They're drawing back. There, by the green stone. OSWALD-- They are safer there Than in the current. SELMA-- See, there's one that still Nips at it in the eddies. See its scales. You cannot carve like that. Look out! Oh, oh! (_She runs down to the outlet of the spring by which the minnow has passed out, and walks up and down, stooping occasionally to feel among the stones of the rill. Oswald goes back and sits down upon the log. After a while Selma rises and looks toward the spring. The trunk is between her and Oswald._) 'Twill grieve her so. (_In a low chant, abstractedly._) She's sleeping in the spring Under the dark rock where the white sand pours. The moss is softer in the forest there, And there the wood-doves coo. He's going away; they told me yesterday. The forest heard them moan: He will not come. The chestnut burr shall break; The wild bird, feeding, shake Unpicked the purple hartcrops to the ground, And the hushed forest only hear the sound Of antlers knocking where the wild deer rubs. He's going away--away--away. (_Staring vacantly into the forest, her back to Oswald, she unconsciously picks the green burrs from the branches above her._) OSWALD--Selma. (_After a pause._) Come here; will you? SELMA-- I'm gathering mast. My fawns, they like it so. It makes them sleek. OSWALD--I want to tell you something. SELMA-- Tell me here. If I had listened to the forest birds, I'd have no berries. And my fawns must eat. OSWALD--'Tis something serious. SELMA-- Ah, you've been to town. (_As she saunters toward the log she reaches up in the air._) Gossamers, where do they come from, Oswald? You never are gay when you've heard the bells. We are going to the mountains, _may_ be. Then You will not hear them. Are there berries there? Rudolph said he saw flowers in the ice. Think of that. Blue-bells.--You are like my crow.