"What do you make of that little bunch of aspens ?" They were on the farther side of the park and were resting under a pine-tree.

The forest here encroached upon the park with its straggling lines of spruce and groves of aspen.

The little clump of aspens did not differ from hundreds Helen had seen.
"I don't make anything particularly of it," replied Helen, dubiously.
"Just a tiny grove of aspens--some very small, some larger, but none very big.

But it's pretty with its green and yellow leaves fluttering and quivering." "It doesn't make you think of a fight ?" "Fight?
No, it certainly does not," replied Helen.
"Well, it's as good an example of fight, of strife, of selfishness, as you will find in the forest," he said.

"Now come over, you an' Bo, an' let me show you what I mean." "Come on, Nell," cried Bo, with enthusiasm.