Ellen gave a longing look at her little black and white favourite, which was uneasily endeavouring to find out the height of the basket, and mewing at the same time with a most ungratified expression. However, though sadly disappointed, she submitted with a very good grace to what could not be helped. First setting down the little cat out of the basket it seemed to like so ill, and giving it one farewell pat and squeeze, she turned to the kind old lady, who stood watching her, and throwing her arms around her neck, silently spoke her gratitude in a hearty hug and kiss. "Good-bye, Ma’am," said she; "I may come and see them some time again, and see you, mayn't I?" "Indeed you shall, my darling," said the old woman; "just as often as you like — just as often as you can get away. I'll make 'Brahm bring you home, sometimes. 'Brahm, you'll bring her, won't you?" "There's two words to that bargain, mother, I can tell you; but if I don't, I'll know the reason on't." And away they went. Ellen drew two or three sighs at first, but she could not help brightening up soon. It was early — not sunrise; the cool freshness of the air was enough to give one new life and spirit; the sky was fair and bright; and Mr. Van Brunt marched along at a quick pace. Enlivened by the exercise, Ellen speedily forgot everything disagreeable; and her little head was filled with pleasant things. She watched where the silver light in the east foretold the sun's coming. She watched the silver change to gold, till a rich yellow tint was flung over the whole landscape, and then broke the first rays of light upon the tops of the western hills — the sun was up. It was a new sight to Ellen. "How beautiful! Oh! how beautiful!" she, exclaimed. "Yes," said Mr. Van Brunt, in his slow way, "it'll be a fine day for the field. I guess I'll go with the oxen over to that 'ere big meadow." "Just look," said Ellen, "how the light comes creeping down the side of the mountain — now it has got to the wood — oh, do look at the tops of the trees! Oh! I wish Mamma was here!" Mr. Van Brunt didn't know what to say to this. He rather wished so, too, for her sake. "There," said Ellen, "now the sunshine is on the fence, and the road, and everything. I wonder what is the reason that the sun shines first upon the top of the mountain, and then comes so slowly down the side; why don't it shine on the whole at once?" Mr. Van Brunt shook his head in ignorance. "He guessed it always did so," he said. "Yes," said Ellen, "I suppose it does; but that's the very thing — I want to know the reason why. And I noticed just now, it shone in my face before it touched my hands. Isn't it queer?" "Humph! there's a great many queer things, if you come to that," said Mr. Van Brunt, philosophically. But Ellen's head ran on from one thing to another, and her next question was not so wide of the subject as her companion might have thought. "Mr. Van Brunt, are there any schools about here?"