They thought it was funny the way she ran when the chickens came near her. “Oh, gee, if we had time we’d go down to the pond and show her the geese. Wouldn’t she run if that old goose got after her!” Leone said, “Marvin Sieverson! We shan’t go there.” But the very best place was the orchard. Even the boys were not so wild and noisy there. Their feet made only soft swishing sounds when they went through the long grass. The boughs were loaded, some broken and sweeping the ground, and the sky was patterned with leaves. “Patricia!” Marvin hinted, tempting her, holding out a little green apple. Leone snatched it from his hand. “Why, Marvin Sieverson, shame on you! Do you want to make little Patricia sick?” “Aw, gee!” He had just wanted to see if she would take it. He and Clyde had both been hunting through the grass for some apples that Patricia could really eat. Only the yellow transparents were ripe. The large apples had a clear pale colour against the leaves that were only slightly darker--mellow and clear at the same time, a light pure yellow-green through which the August sunshine seemed to pass. Patricia took the big yellow apple that Marvin picked for her and carried it all around with her. “_Eat_ it, Patricia, why don’t you?” But she wanted to hold it. “Oh, thank you!” she said very earnestly for every single thing the children gave her--the red dahlia, and the tiny bunch of sweet peas, the bluebird’s feather. Whenever she saw a bird she stopped. She put her little silky hand on Leone’s wrist. “Look!” “It’s just a bird.” She stood and watched with fascinated eyes until the bird was lost in the sky and she had to turn away dazzled with blue and gold. “Do you wish you could stay here and belong to us, Patricia?” Leone asked her wistfully. “We’d play you were my little girl, wouldn’t we?” Patricia wished that she could stay. There were streaks of dust down the shining linen dress and on the soft little arms, a damp parting in the lovely wave of the bangs, and around her mouth there was a faint stain of red from the juicy plums the boys had brought her to suck. Oh, yes, the country, she said, was _nice_! She looked about with shining innocent eyes of wonder. She loved the animals. In the city, she told them, animals weren’t happy. There were the beautiful green birds in the shop--just the colour, almost, of these apple-tree leaves!--but her father wouldn’t buy them for her because he didn’t believe in keeping things in cages, and he wouldn’t get her the big gray dog because it wasn’t right to take dogs out on chains. “Oh, if I lived in the country,” she cried, “do you know what I’d do? I’d just run around and run around----” “You’d play with _me_, wouldn’t you, Patricia?” Marvin cut in jealously. “I’d play----” “Children!”