back from the
wars he must liv hear the rest off his life."

Dely's tender heart was greatly stirred by the letter, yet she was
undecided what to do. Here she was alone and poor; there would be her
mother,--and she loved her mother, though she could not respect her;
there, too, was plenty for all; and if George should ever come home, the
bakery business was just the thing for him,--he had energy and courage
enough to redeem a sinking affair like that. But then what should she do
with the cow? Puss could go home with her; but Biddy?--there was no
place for Biddy. Pasture was scarce and dear about Hanerford; Dely's
father had given up keeping a cow long before his death for that reason;
but how could Dely leave and sell her faithful friend and companion? Her
heart sank at the thought; it almost turned the scale, for one pitiful
moment, against common-sense and filial feeling. But baby
coughed,--nothing more than a slight cold, yet Dely thought, as she had
often thought before, with a quick thrill of terror, What if baby were
ever sick? Seven miles between her and the nearest doctor; nobody to
send, nobody to leave baby with, and she herself utterly inexperienced
in the care of children. The matter was decided at once; and before the
driver who brought her mother's letter had come, on his next journey,
for the answer he had offered to carry, Dely's letter was written,
sealed, and put on the shelf, and she was busy contriving and piecing
out a warm hood and cloak for baby to ride in.

But every time she went to the barn to milk Biddy or feed her, the tears
sprang to her eyes, and her mind misgave her. Never before had the
dainty bits of food been so plentiful for her pet, or her neck so
tenderly stroked. Dely had written to her mother that she would come to
her as soon as her affairs were settled, and she had spoken to Orrin
Nye, who brought the letter, to find a purchaser for her cow.
Grandfather Hollis, who bought Biddy, and in whose farm-yard I made her
acquaintance, gave me the drover's account of the matter, which will be
better in his words than mine. It seems he brought quite a herd of milch
cows down to Avondale, which is twenty miles from Hanerford, and hearing
that Grandfather wanted a couple of cows, he came to "trade with him,"
as he expressed it. He had two beautiful Ayrshires in the lot,--clean
heads, shining skins, and good milkers,--that mightily pleased the old
gentleman's fancy; for he had long brooded ov