face of Nature had grown sad each winter, and
her flowers and lovely things had yearly passed away, but Nellie had
not then loved them.

Here she was found by a boy rosy-cheeked and bright, who all his life
had been loved and caressed to the same extent that Nellie had been
neglected. He lived beyond the forest, and had come this afternoon
to look for walnuts. Seeing the girl unhappy, he essayed some of the
blandishing arts his mother had often lavished on him, speaking to her
in a kindly tone and asking her why she cried.

The child looked up at the sound of this new voice, and her
astonishment stopped her tears. After gazing at him for some time with
her eyes wide open, she remarked, wonderingly, "You are little, like
me."

"I am not very small," replied the boy, straightening himself.

"Oh, but you _are_ young and little," she insisted.

"I am young, but not little. Come stand up beside me. See! you don't
more than reach my shoulder."

"Shall you ever get bigger?"

"Of course I shall."

"Shall you grow up nasty?" she continued, trying to bring her stock of
experience to bear on this new phenomenon.

"No, I sha'n't!" he answered very decidedly.

"Shall you die?"

"No, not until I am old, old, old."

"I am very glad: I will take you for a pet, All my little animals get
nasty, and my flowers have died, but I don't care, now that you have
come: I think I shall like you best."

"But I won't be your pet," said the boy, offended.

"Why not?" she asked, looking at him beseechingly. "I should be very
good to you;" and she smoothed his sleeve with her brown hand as if it
were the fur of one of her late darlings.

"Who are you?" he demanded inquisitively.

"I am myself," she innocently replied.

"What is your name?"

"I am Nellie. Have you a name?" she eagerly went on. "If you haven't,
I'll give you a pretty one. Let me see: I will call you--"

"You need not trouble yourself, thank you: I have a name of my own,
Miss Nellie. I am Danby Overbeck."

"Dan--by--o--ver--beck!" she repeated slowly. "Why, you have an awful
long name, Beck, for such a little fellow."

"I am not little, and I will not have you call me Beck: that is no
name."

"I forgot all but the last. Don't get nasty, please;" and she patted
his arm soothingly. "What does your nurse call you?"

"I am no baby to have a nurse," he said disdainfully.

"You have no nurse? Poor thing! What do you do? who feeds you?"

"I feed myself."

"W