"I'm sure I don't know. They must nearly freeze in the winter. Perhaps the ram can tell us." But the ram was still angry, and refused to say anything, so the sheep stopped talking and began to scatter over the pasture and eat the tender, new grass. By and by the Black Sheep wandered near the lane, and looking up, saw the little boy watching it through the bars. "Good morning, Black Sheep," said the boy; "why do you look so funny this morning?" "They have cut off my wool," answered the sheep. [Illustration: The Black Sheep] "What will they do with it, Black Sheep?" enquired the little boy. "They will make coats of it, to keep themselves warm." "I wish I had some wool," said the boy, "for I need a new coat very badly, and mamma is so poor she cannot buy me one." "That is too bad," replied the Black Sheep; "but I shall have more wool by and by, and then I will give you a bagful to make a new coat from." "Will you really?" asked the boy, looking very much pleased. "Indeed I will," answered the sheep, "for you are always kind and have a pleasant word for me. So you watch until my wool grows again, and then you shall have your share of it." "Oh, thank you!" said the boy, and he ran away to tell his mother what the Black Sheep had said. When the farmer came into the field again the Black Sheep said to him, "Master, how many bags of wool did you cut from my back?" "Two bags full," replied the farmer; "and it was very nice wool indeed." "If I grow three bags full the next time, may I have one bag for myself?" asked the sheep. "Why, what could you do with a bag of wool?" questioned the farmer. "I want to give it to the little boy that lives in the lane. He is very poor and needs a new coat." "Very well," answered the master; "if you can grow three bags full I will give one to the little boy." So the Black Sheep began to grow wool, and tried in every way to grow the finest and heaviest fleece in all the flock. She always lay in the sunniest part of the pastures, and drank from the clearest part of the brook, and ate only the young and juicy shoots of grass and the tenderest of the sheep-sorrel. And each day the little boy came to the bars and looked at the sheep and enquired how the wool was growing. "I am getting along finely," the Black Sheep would answer, "for not one sheep in the pasture has so much wool as I have grown already." "Can I do anything to help you?" asked the little boy. "Not that I think of," replied the sheep, "unless you could get me a little salt. I believe salt helps the wool to grow." So the boy ran to the house and begged his mother for a handful of salt, and then he came back to the bars, where the Black Sheep licked it out of his hand. Day by day the wool on the sheep grew longer and longer, and even the old ram noticed it and said,