uldn't
help herself. She had all winter, all last summer, and no one but
themselves knew how long before that, and where was there any other man
like Laddie? Of course she loved him! Who so deserving of love? Who
else had his dancing eyes of deep tender blue, cheeks so pink, teeth so
white, such waving chestnut hair, and his height and breadth? There
was no other man who could ride, swim, leap, and wrestle as he could.
None who could sing the notes, do the queer sums with letters having
little figures at the corners in the college books, read Latin as fast
as English, and even the Greek Bible. Of course she loved him! Every
one did! Others might plod and meander, Laddie walked the tired, old
road that went out of sight over the hill, with as prideful a step as
any king; his laugh was as merry as the song of the gladdest thrush,
while his touch was so gentle that when mother was in dreadful pain I
sometimes thought she would a little rather have him hold her than
father.

Now, he was in this fearful trouble, the colour was going from his
face, his laugh was a little strained, and the heartache almost more
than he could endure--and there she came! I stepped squarely in the
middle of the road so she would have to stop or ride over me, and when
she was close, I stood quite still. I was watching with my eyes,
heart, and brain, and I couldn't see that she was provoked, as she drew
rein and cried: "Good morning, Little Queer Person!"

I had supposed she would say Little Sister, she had for ages, just like
Laddie, but she must have thought it was queer for me to stop her that
way, so she changed. I was in for it. I had her now, so I smiled the
very sweetest smile that I could think up in such a hurry, and said,
"Good morning," the very politest I ever did in all my life. Then I
didn't know what to do next, but she helped me out.

"What have you there?" she asked.

"It's a piece of the very first rhubarb pie for this spring, and I'm
carrying it to Laddie," I said, as I lifted the catalpa leaf and let
her peep, just to show her how pie looked when it was right. I bet she
never saw a nicer piece.

The Princess slid her hand down Maud's neck to quiet her prancing, and
leaned in the saddle, her face full of interest. I couldn't see a
trace of anything to discourage me; her being on our road again looked
favourable. She seemed to think quite as much of that pie as I did.
She was the finest little thoroughbred.