lf as big as a calf walked boldly up and
drank, right where I stand."

"'twas not as big as a calf," declared Anne; "and why should you seek to
kill a wild creature who wants but a drink? 'Tis not a bad wolf."

Jimmie looked at her in surprise, his gray eyes widening and shining in
wonder. "All wolves are bad," he declared. "This same gray wolf walked off
with Widow Bett's plumpest hen and devoured it before her very eyes."

"Well, the poor creature was hungry. We eat plump hens, when we can get
them," answered Anne.

Jimmie laughed good-naturedly. "Wait till you see the beast, Anne," he
answered. "Its eyes shine like black water, and its teeth show like
pointed rocks. You'd not stand up for it so boldly if you had but seen
it."

Anne made no answer; she was not even tempted to tell Jimmie that she had
seen the animal, had been almost within arm's reach of it.

"I must be going," she said, "but do not harm the wolf, Jimmie," and she
looked at the boy pleadingly; "perhaps it knows no better than to take
food when it is hungry."

"I'd like its skin for a coat," the boy answered, "but 'Tis a wise beast
and knows well how to take care of itself. It's miles away by this time,"
and picking up the buckets he started toward home, and Anne turned away
from the spring and walked toward the little pasture where Brownie fed in
safety.

She stopped to speak to the little brown cow and to give her a handful of
tender grass, and then wandered down the slope and along the edge of the
marsh.

"Maybe 'twill come again," she thought, as she reached the little oak tree
and sat down where she had slept the day before. "Perhaps if I sit very
still it will come out again. I'm sure 'Tis not an unfriendly beast."

The little girl sat very still; she did not feel sleepy or tired, and her
dark eyes scanned the marsh hopefully, but as the summer morning drifted
toward noon she began to realize that her watch was in vain.

"I s'pose Jimmie Starkweather was right, and the gray wolf is miles away,"
she thought, as she decided that she must leave the shadow of the oak and
hurry toward home so that Aunt Martha would not be anxious about her.

"I wish the wolf knew I liked him," the little girl said aloud, as she
turned her face toward home. "I would not chase him away from the spring,
and I would not want his gray fur for a coat," and Anne's face was very
sober, as she sent a lingering look along the thick-growing woods that
bordered the