either perished or
been taken care of by some prospector, while still others held the
opinion that he had taken French leave. Speculation as to his
disappearance soon died down, however, and Surly Sim, Tabitha's hermit
of the hills, was forgotten.

The holidays came, bringing Carrie home for a brief vacation, and she
was bubbling over with such enthusiastic reports of life at boarding
school that Tabitha found it harder than ever to let her go back to
enjoy the privileges which were denied her. So great was her grief that
after seeing her flaxen-haired playmate on board the train to return to
her school, she rushed away to pour out her despair to sympathetic Mrs.
Vane.

"I don't see why it is that some people have everything and others
nothing," she sobbed bitterly. "I can't help envying Carrie. She has the
nicest mother and father and the prettiest house and the loveliest books
and clothes and all the money she wants. And so has Jerome. They both go
away to school and have splendid times and see the world, and I can't
have any of it."

"Poor little girlie!" murmured the woman to herself. "How unjust it does
seem, even from a grown-up's standpoint!" So she stroked the heavy black
hair and cuddled tearful Tabitha until the storm was spent; then she
spoke tenderly, "That is one of the problems that has puzzled the world
all these years, dear, and has caused all sorts of trouble. But it is
something that we can overcome, every one of us, if we want to."

"What do you mean?"

"Just this, Puss; don't sulk and be cross because you can't have
everything you want. Be happy where you were put. Did you ever hear the
little poem called _The Discontented Buttercup_? It is the story of a
buttercup who mourned because she couldn't be a daisy with white frills
like her neighbor flowers, and she didn't see the loveliness of the day
nor feel the softness of the breezes because she spent all her time in
vain wishes. So she asked a robin who had paused to rest near her if he
wouldn't try to find her a nice white frill some time when he was
flying. And then these verses follow:

'You silly thing,' the robin said,
'I think you must be crazy;
I'd rather be my honest self,
Than any made-up daisy.

You're nicer in your own bright gown;
The little children love you;
Be the best buttercup you can,
And think no flower above you.

Look bravely up into the sky,
And be content with kno