range thing was, that out of this pitiful
tenderness seemed to grow, like its blossom, another unlike
feeling--namely, that he was in the presence of a being of some
order superior to his own, one to whom he would have to listen if he
spoke, who knew more than he would tell. But then Donal was a Celt,
and might be a poet, and the sweet stillness of the child's
atmosphere made things bud in his imagination.

My reader must think how vastly, in all his poverty, Donal was
Gibbie's superior in the social scale. He earned his own food and
shelter, and nearly four pounds a year besides; lived as well as he
could wish, dressed warm, was able for his work, and imagined it no
hardship. Then he had a father and mother whom he went to see every
Saturday, and of whom he was as proud as son could be--a father who
was the priest of the family, and fed sheep; a mother who was the
prophetess, and kept the house ever an open refuge for her children.
Poor Gibbie earned nothing--never had earned more than a penny at a
time in his life, and had never dreamed of having a claim to such
penny. Nobody seemed to care for him, give him anything, do
anything for him. Yet there he sat before Donal's eyes, full of
service, of smiles, of contentment.

Donal took up his book, but laid it down again and gazed at Gibbie.
Several times he tried to return to his reading, but as often
resumed his contemplation of the boy. At length it struck him as
something more than shyness would account for, that he had not yet
heard a word from the lips of the child, even when running after the
cows. He must watch him more closely.

By this it was his dinner time. Again he untied his handkerchief,
and gave Gibbie what he judged a fair share for his bulk--namely
about a third of the whole. Philosopher as he was, however, he
could not help sighing a little when he got to the end of his
diminished portion. But he was better than comforted when Gibbie
offered him all that yet remained to him; and the smile with which
he refused it made Gibbie as happy as a prince would like to be.
What a day it had been for Gibbie! A whole human being, and some
five and twenty four-legged creatures besides, to take care of!

After their dinner, Donal gravitated to his book, and Gibbie resumed
the executive. Some time had passed when Donal, glancing up, saw
Gibbie lying flat on his chest, staring at something in the grass.
He slid himself quietly nearer, and discovered it