His mother shrugged goodnaturedly. Pious Jewess that she was, she was often inclined to quarrel with her husband who, she declared, was too fond of keeping the boy tied to his Hebrew lessons. "He needs a strong body now," she used to say when demanding an extra play-hour for Samuel. "When he is older and his head is less stuffed with dreaming it will be time enough to cram it with your learning. But first let him play out in the open air until he is tired and the fresh wind has blown all his nonsense away." She was thinking the same heresy that moment, but all she did was to smile goodhumoredly and pull the boy to his feet. "Out of doors with you," she commanded, gayly, "and I will speak to father. Take a walk--a long one, and when you come back you will be able to study without falling half-asleep over your book." Samuel needed no urging. A moment later he had kissed his mother good-bye, helped himself to a handful of sugar cookies from her blue crockery jar, and was whistling down the dusty road, feeling strangely anxious for some adventures; adventures as heroic as his father often related before the fire on winter evenings. His mother might have thrown up her hands in despair had she seen the dreamy look in his large eyes. True, he was no longer drowsing on the settle, but as he swung along under the soft spring sky, he saw himself the hero of a hundred fantastic tales--the captain of a trading-vessel bound for the Indies; the commander of a company of daring youths of his own age, all ready to resist the Indians when they should seek to fall upon New Amsterdam; again, a pirate with a plumed hat and a flashing sword. So, lost in dreaming, he wandered on down the quiet streets to the Wall which marked the boundary of the Settlement. Suddenly realizing that he was tired and hungry, Samuel threw himself upon the grass, and taking his cookies from his pocket, began to munch them contendedly, wondering just what heroic deed he should plan for his next undertaking. But in the middle of a bite he stopped short, sitting up suddenly and rubbing his eyes as though he had been asleep and feared he was still dreaming. There on the grass beside him sat a little girl, almost his own age he judged; a little girl with golden hair and eyes as blue as the flowers growing in the young grass about them. To the simple lad she seemed as richly dressed as a fairy princess, for her frock was of flowered silk, she wore silver buckles upon her little shoes, and her daintily flounced cap was fastened at either ear with a quaint medallion of beaten gold. Samuel took in all of these details slowly, half afraid to speak lest he should drive away the delicate little creature, who had risen from the grass and now stood poised for flight like a gaily tinted butterfly. Then she spoke, and he knew there was very little of the fairy about her and that she was almost as human as himself.