nd grow up into something myself.
I'm very glad you came here, Mr. Flint. You've helped me, lots."

"Me?" with husky astonishment.

"You, of course," said the child, serenely. "Because you are such a
good man, Mr. Flint, and so patient, and you stick at what you try to
do until you do it better than anybody else does. Often and often when
I've been trying to do sums--I'm frightfully stupid about
arithmetic--and I wanted to give up, I'd think of you over here just
trying and trying and keeping right on trying, until you'd gotten what
you wanted to know; and then _I'd_ keep on trying, too. The funny part
is, that I like you for making me do it. You see, I'm a very, very bad
person in some things, Mr. Flint," she said frankly. "Why, when my
mother has to tell me to look at so and so, and see how well they
behave, or how nicely they can do certain things, and how good they
are, and why don't I profit by such a good example, a perfectly horrid
raging sort of feeling comes all over me, and I want to be as naughty
as naughty! I feel like doing and saying things I'd never want to do
or say, if it wasn't for that good example. I just can't seem to
_bear_ being good-exampled. But you're different, thank goodness. Most
really good people are different, I guess."

He looked at her, dumbly--he had no words at his command. She missed
the irony and the tragedy, but she sensed the depths of feeling under
that mute exterior.

"I'm glad you're sorry I'm going away," said she, with the directness
that was so engaging. "I perfectly love people to feel sorry to part
with me. I hope and _hope_ they'll keep on being sorry--because
they'll be that much gladder when I come back. I don't believe there's
anything quite so wonderful and beautiful as having other folks like
you, except it's liking other folks yourself!"

"I never had to be bothered about it, either way," said he dryly. His
face twitched.

"Maybe that's because you never stayed still long enough in any one
place to catch hold," said she, and laughed at him.

"Good-by, Mr. Flint! I'll never see a butterfly or a moth, the whole
time I'm gone, without making believe he's a messenger from Madame,
and the Padre, and you, and Kerry. I'll play he's a carrier-butterfly,
with a message tucked away under his wings: 'Howdy, Mary Virginia!
I've just come from flying over the flowers in the Parish House
garden; and the folks are all well, and busy, and happy. But they
haven't forgotten