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May Nell watched the flying figure turn out of sight around the mountain; and for a minute the forest grew absolutely still, and the child began to tremble. But a meadow lark, almost from under her feet it seemed, sent forth a rippling song; across the river her mate replied. A flock of white ducks came waddling and quacking from the opposite field, plunged into the water, and swam about noisily, tipping their little tails up and their big bills down as they reached for submerged morsels. Bouncer made a swift circuit of the Lodge, sniffing now and then questioningly; but came soon and sat down in front of May Nell; put his paw on her knee and gave her another short bark.,

“Sure!” Billy assented, heartily. “I take it back about old Sir Thomas; I guess they’re equal partners, after all.”,

Moses began cutting make-believe tickets using the paper and scissors thrust into his hand by the capable manageress of the show.,

She thought he should be in a warmer room, but he begged so hard to stay that she yielded. She put a bell near, that he might call her, and went to him several times before she slept, finding him somewhat restless, yet too profoundly asleep to be wakened by her light touch. Outraged nature was in charge now.

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Billy peeped under the cover, not heeding the little girls’ protest. “Golly, May Nell! The Queen of Sheba won’t be in it ’long side of you.”,

When Betty entered the open garden gate she noticed Nancy sitting patiently beside a gopher hole watching for the tiny inmate to appear. In order not to disturb her pet, the child took a roundabout course to the beet patch where Moses and Mrs. Wopp were working.,

Outside the spring warmth and fragrance enfolded the children as a mantle, opening their hearts to each other. Billy showed his flock of pigeons, his white chickens and the house where they roosted and brought forth their fluffy broods. Old Bouncer barked and capered about them; and the little girl tried to decide which cat was the prettiest, white Flash watching for gophers in the green alfalfa, or Sir Thomas Katzenstein, his yellow mate, basking in the sun. “He isn’t yellow like any other cat I ever saw; he’s shaded so beautifully.”,

He threw himself on the bed and wept the bitterest tears he had ever shed in his life, tears of shame. There he lay—hours, he thought—determined to bear his pain and disgrace alone. Yet it was only minutes when he heard his mother in her room, coming!