“You children go get her something--apples or something,” Mrs. Sieverson whispered. “We have, Mamma! We’ve got a whole lot of things for her.” They began piling presents into her lap. “Don’t forget your little feather, Patricia!” Marvin ran off to find something else. The wilting flowers, the apple, the six rosy plums, the bluebird’s feather she carefully took again. Marvin came panting back with his new game of “Round the World by Aëroplane.” But Mr. Lindsay wouldn’t let him give her that. “No, no, my boy! You keep your game. She’s got more things at home now than she can ever play with.” Now she seemed happy and appeased. The children crowded close to the side of the car and pleaded, “Come out again, won’t you, Patricia?” Vila whispered in her shy voice, “I’ll take care of Pearl and Samphire and those others, Patricia.” Marvin said fiercely, “If any tomcat comes round, I’ll----” and ground and gnashed his teeth and made fiercely appropriate motions. Leone gave him a look for making her think about the tomcat! But Patricia was still smiling and happy and hadn’t understood. Now, in her relief and in the flurry of going, she was more eager and talkative than she had been all afternoon. She promised everything they asked. “I will. I will, Leone. I will, Marvin. Thank you for all the beautiful things.” In the midst of it Mr. Lindsay leaned over to say in a low tone to Mr. Sieverson, a little ashamed, “Well, somebody else’ll take that in for you, Henry, if you can’t go.” “Sure. That’s all right, Mr. Lindsay.” “Well, now, my little girl, tell them all good-bye.” “Good-bye.” “Good-bye, Patricia!” They called and waved madly to her, all standing back together. She answered them. At the very last minute, just as the car was going out into the driveway, she leaned out with her shining hair mussed and blowing in the breeze, and cried: “Good-bye, calf! I forgot to say good-bye to you.” Marvin laughed in delight, and then Clyde echoed him. * * * * * Mr. Sieverson stood looking after the car. That “wicked” still rankled. He said, as if very much put out, “Well, now, I’ll have to find another way of getting this calf in or else take it myself before night.” Then he said, as if ashamed, “Gosh! I don’t know. I almost hate to take it. That little thing put up such a fuss.” He couldn’t help adding, “She was a pretty little kid, wasn’t she?” Mrs. Sieverson did not answer at once. Then she said in an expressionless tone, “Well ... maybe you better take the other one, then.” He looked at her and seemed to want to assent. Then he cried, “Oh, no! We can’t do that. This is the one we’d picked on.” He looked angry, and yet in his light-blue eyes under the shock of lightish hair there was a hurt, puzzled look. “Oh, well,” he muttered. “Folks can’t be foolish!” If ever folks were to start thinking of _such_ things....