Scotty could see her now as he came down the forest path. She was working in the little rough hayfield, pitching up the forkfuls of hay on to a little oxcart with masculine energy. Her skirt was turned up, showing a striped, homespun petticoat, and beneath it her strong bare ankles. Her pink calico sunbonnet made a dash of colour against the cool green of the woods. Scotty took a leap at the low brush fence that surrounded the clearing and went over it in one bound. Then he stood stock still with sudden surprise; for there, right in front of him, seated on a low stump with an air of patient expectancy, was a small figure almost enveloped in a big, blue sunbonnet. "Oh!" cried Scotty in amazement. "Oh!" echoed the Blue Sunbonnet. It came suddenly to life, leaped from the stump and pitched itself upon him. "Oh, oh! I've been watching for you just hours and hours, and I thought you weren't never, _never_ coming!" The visitor did not know what to say. He was scarcely prepared for such an effusive welcome, and was suddenly seized with a fit of shyness. "You're Scotty, aren't you?" she asked. He nodded and the vision laughed aloud and clapped its small hands. The blue sunbonnet toppled off, showing a shower of riotous golden curls, tumbled about in delightful confusion; her eyes, big and blue, danced with joy. "Oh, oh, I'm so glad!" she cried. "I 'membered you ever since I saw you in that funny little shop!" Scotty stared still harder. To hear Store Thompson's establishment designated by such terms was beyond belief. "I 'membered your eyes!" she added, nodding confidentially. Her baby way of saying "'member" restored Scotty's confidence in himself. "Well, I will remember you, too," he admitted sedately. She laughed again and capered about him, while he stood and looked at her rather puzzled. He did not see anything to laugh at, and did not yet comprehend that here was a creature so joyous by nature that she must laugh and dance about from sheer spontaneous delight. "Oh, I'm so glad!" she reiterated for the tenth time. "I'll race you to the house!" She darted down the hill like a swallow, her golden hair blown back, her little white bare feet twinkling over the grass. But Scotty was a very greyhound for speed. He leaped after her and in a moment forged ahead. When he had gone sufficiently far to show her how fast he could run, he looked back to find her limping slowly after him. The boy's tender heart, always quick to respond to the sight of pain, suddenly smote him. He ran swiftly back. "What's the matter?" he asked.