d be a feast day, after all.

Before she quite realized it even, she had deflected from her course,
remembering just then a certain glen in the grounds of her old home
where rare ferns grew to prodigious size, and where no cold of winter
seemed to harm them. Then once upon the familiar path every step was
suggestive of some bygone outing, and led her to explore farther and
still farther.

"Ah, the frost-bleached maiden-hair. Nowhere else does it last like
this. It's almost as white as edelweiss, and far more graceful. I must
put that in my basket, if nothing else." So she pulled it gently and
with infinite care, lest she should break the delicate fronds that had
outlasted their season by so long. Then there were others, dainty green
and still fragrant, which she gathered eagerly; with here and there a
bit of crimson-berried vine, or a patch of velvet moss.

Always she kept to the depth of the little ravine, through which ran a
tiny, babbling brook. This had long ago been named "Merrywater," nor had
it ever seemed gayer and more winsome than then. It was like reunion
with some old beloved playmate, and Amy forgot everything but the
present enjoyment as she stooped and dabbled in the water here and
there. Sometimes she came to the fantastic little bridges which Hallam
had used to lie upon the bank and construct out of the roots and pebbles
she brought him. Where these had fallen into decay she repaired them;
and at one time was busily endeavoring to force a grapevine into place
when she heard a sound that made her pause in her task and spring to her
feet.

"Ah-umph! A-h-u-m-ph! A-H-U-M-P-H!!!"

"Pepita! No--Balaam! Balaam, Balaam--Balaam!"

She was off up the bank in another instant. The sound was from the old
stable, so dear, so familiar to her. As she ran she caught up here and
there great tufts of sweet grass, such as had been neglected by the
mowers, but were dear to donkey appetites.

"Oh, the precious! The blessed little beast! Won't Hallam be glad! Won't
this be a Christmas gift indeed, to bring him back his own pet! How glad
I am I took this way to walk, and how queer it is that he should be back
in his very own old home. Is it so queer, though? Wouldn't I come, too,
if I were just a burro and were set free to follow my own will? I can
hardly wait to reach him."

In a moment she had done so, and had filled the manger with the still
luscious grass, while climbing upon its front she had thrown her arms
abo