One, indeed, was so very wonderful that David, with a whoop of glee, summoned Mrs.Holly from the shed doorway to come and see.
So urgent was his plea that Mrs.Holly came with hurried steps--but she went away with steps even more hurried; and David, sitting back on his woodpile seat, was left to wonder why she should scream and shudder and say "Ugh-h-h!" at such a beautiful, interesting thing as was this little creature who lived in her woodpile.
Even then David did not think of that empty woodbox waiting behind the kitchen stove.

This time it was a butterfly, a big black butterfly banded with gold; and it danced and fluttered all through the back yard and out into the garden, David delightedly following with soft-treading steps, and movements that would not startle.

From the garden to the orchard, and from the orchard back to the garden danced the butterfly--and David; and in the garden, near the house, David came upon Mrs.Holly's pansy-bed.

Even the butterfly was forgotten then, for down in the path by the pansy-bed David dropped to his knees in veritable worship.
"Why, you're just like little people," he cried softly.

"You've got faces; and some of you are happy, and some of you are sad.