he Camp, so that the sounds
he hated came dulled and hushed to his ear, Amberley ventured a few rods
down the hillside in search of a missing calf. The truant was a pretty,
white-nosed creature, a special pet of his master's, with great brown,
confiding eyes, and ample ears, and Amberley had named him Simon. Not a
usual name for a calf, as Simon was well aware, but somehow it gave the
lonely man a peculiar pleasure to know that his name was borne by a
cheerful young thing, with frisky tail and active legs, and everything
to live for.

As the elder Simon strolled down the hillside on this particular spring
day, calling and peering from side to side, his eye fell upon the first
daisy of the season, nestling close at his feet,--a single blossom among
a crowded group of little short-stemmed scrubby buds. He stooped to pick
it, and was standing, lost in wonder over its frailty and its hardihood,
when a child's voice struck his ear, calling, "Come Bossie, come!"

Stepping around a projecting rock close at hand, Amberley came upon a
pretty scene. On a wide level sunny space, where young grass was
already springing, stood a little figure in blue, with yellow hair
flying about in the breeze; a tiny hand filled with grass, held out
toward the doubtful yet covetous Simon Jr. The child stood perfectly
still, her square little back turned to her new observer, while the calf
stumped cautiously toward her. At a safe distance he stopped and sniffed
at the tiny hand, then kicked up his heels and pranced away again. The
little drama repeated itself several times, the child standing always
motionless, with extended arm, and calling upon "Bossie" in enticing
tones to come.

Won over at last by her constancy,--or by his own greed,--"Bossie"
ventured near enough to snatch the proffered tidbit; then off he
scampered, in ungrateful haste, mouthing the delicate morsel.

A sigh of relief and satisfaction went up from the little figure, while
one small hand gravely rubbed and kneaded the arm which had so pluckily
maintained its uncomfortable position. Amberley approached with his
short-stemmed daisy.

"How do you do, little girl?" he inquired in his most polite manner.
"Would you like a daisy?"

"Yes," was the reply, spoken with a slight lisp.

"You are very good to feed Simon," Amberley proceeded, quite set at ease
by the gracious acceptance of his offering.

"Yes;" said the child once more, this time with a rising inflection.

"Simon