But we are wandering away from Embley and from the two daughters of the squire, who were already the delight of the village. Cap was by no means the only animal who owed much to Florence, and Peggy, a favourite old pony, now holiday-making in the paddock, looked for frequent visits and much sport between lesson hours. “Poor old Peggy, then; would she like a carrot?” “Well, where is it, then? See if you can find it, Peggy.” And then a little game followed, to which the beloved pony was quite accustomed—snuffing round her young mistress and being teased and tantalized for a minute or two, just to heighten the coming pleasure, until at last the pocket was found where the precious delicacy was hidden, and the daily feast began, a feast not of carrots only, for caresses were of course a part of the ritual. Florence had much good fellowship also with the wild squirrels of the neighbourhood, especially in one long avenue that was their favourite abode. They were not in the least afraid of her, and would come leaping down after the nuts that she dropped for them as she walked along. Sometimes she would turn sharp round and startle them back into their homes, but it was easy to tempt them down again. She was quick at finding and guarding the nests of brooding birds, and suffered very keenly as a child when the young ones were taken away from their mothers. Lambs and calves soon learned that she was fond of them, and the affection was not on her side only. But among the pets that the two girls were allowed to have, the ailing ones were always the most interesting to the future nurse. It cannot, however, be too strongly stated that there was nothing sentimental or lackadaisical in the very vigorous and hard-working life that she led. It was not by any means all songs and roses, though it was full of the happiness of a well-ordered and loving existence. Her father was a rigid disciplinarian, and nothing casual or easygoing was allowed in the Embley schoolroom. For any work carelessly done there was punishment as well as reproof, and no shamming of any sort was allowed. Hours must be punctually kept, and, whether the lesson for the moment was Latin, Greek, or mathematics, or the sewing of a fine and exquisite seam, it must come up to the necessary standard and be satisfactorily done. The master-mind that so swiftly transformed the filthy horrors of Scutari into a well-ordered hospital, and could dare to walk through minor difficulties and objections as though they did not exist, was educated in a severe and early school; and the striking modesty and gentleness of Florence Nightingale’s girlhood was the deeper for having grappled with enough real knowledge to know its own ignorances and limitations, and treat the personality of others with a deference which was a part of her charm.