"That's it, I guess. But I'd _like_ awfully well to know them, and 'specially whether we can really use the money for ourselves. Now that Bossy is gone, I don't know what we are going to do for milk. Mr. Jones paid fifteen dollars for her, but that won't buy a whole new one." "I think I know where you can get a fine cow for fifteen dollars. If you will give me the money I will call around by the place and have the man bring it to you the first thing in the morning. It is quite a piece from here, and maybe he wouldn't sell it to _you_ for that price, but I know he would to _me_." Peace sat lost in thought, a bit of bread poised half way to her mouth. "Is it a good cow?" asked Allee, timidly. "The very best." "Gentle, like Bossy?" Cherry questioned. "Gentle as a lamb." "Does she give four gallons of milk a day?" Peace interrupted. "More, sometimes." "Is she pretty?" "Handsome as a picture." "Does she give good milk, with lots of cream? We make our own butter, you know." "She's a splendid butter cow." "Has she got brown eyes, like mine, and a curly tail, and two good horns--not too sharp? Will she eat sugar out of your hand and not drive folks out of the stall when they try to pet her?" "She is the finest cow I ever saw--" "Then it's funny the man will sell her for; fifteen dollars," declared Peace, with sudden suspicion, studying the old man opposite her, but seeing only a sandy, untrimmed beard, a strong, honest face, with square jaws, and a pair of the kindest eyes she had ever looked into. "Not at all," said the man, chuckling to himself at the trap she had laid for him. "He wants to get rid of his herd, but doesn't need the money; though, of course, he wouldn't care to give the cows away." "Well," hesitated the brown-eyed girl, "I guess--I will have you order the cow for us. Gail won't feel so bad about losing Bossy if we can get another just as good. Here is the money. Do you have to go so soon? I would like to have you stay until the girls get here. Now, don't you forget about the cow!" "She will be here early tomorrow morning. Good-night, and many thanks for the supper." Out into the spring night walked the tramp, with the precious fifteen dollars in his pocket, and again the three children took up their vigil at the window, watching for the sisters from town. When at last Gail and Faith reached home, expecting to be met by tears and reproaches from three hungry maids, they were surprised to find supper spread on the table awaiting their coming, and to hear a strange tale of mishap and adventure that would have done credit to the age of Mother Goose or Robinson Crusoe. "Doesn't that sound like a fairy prince?" asked Peace, when the recital was ended. "But he says he isn't one."