splashed the hill-tops with gold and
saffron as within his heart raged the age-old battle.... But as yet he
felt none of its wounds. He was conscious only of a wholly irrational
delight.

As the next forenoon passed Grant found himself glancing with increasing
frequency toward the end of the field where the little boy might be
expected to appear. But the day wore on without sign of his young
friend, and the furrows which he had turned so joyously at nine were
dragging leadenly at eleven. He had not thought it possible that a child
could so quickly have won a way to his affections. He fell to wondering
as to the cause of the boy's absence. Had Zen, after a night's
reflection, decided that it was wiser not to allow the acquaintance to
develop? Had Transley, returning home, placed his veto upon it? Or--and
his heart paused at this prospect--had the foot been more seriously hurt
than they had supposed? Grant told himself that he must go over that
night and make inquiry. That would be the neighborly thing to do....

But early that afternoon his heart was delighted by the sight of a
little figure skipping joyously over the furrows toward him. He had his
hat crumpled in one hand, and his teddy-bear in the other, and his face
was alive with excitement. He was puffing profusely when he pulled up
beside the plow, and Grant stopped the team while he got his breath.

"My! My! What is the hurry? I see the foot is all better."

"We got a pig!" the lad gasped, when he could speak.

"A pig!"

"Yessir! A live one, too! He's awful big. A man brought him in a wagon.
That is why I couldn't come this morning."

Grant treated himself to a humble reflection upon the wisdom of childish
preferments.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Eat him up, I guess. Daddy said there was enough wasted about our house
to keep a pig, so we got one. Aren't you going to take me up?"

"Of course. But first we must put teddy in his place."

"I'm to go home at five o'clock," the boy said, when he had got properly
settled.

The hours slipped by all too quickly, and if the lad's presence did not
contribute to good plowing, it at least made a cheerful plowman. It was
plain that Zen had sufficient confidence in her farmer neighbor to trust
her boy in his care, and his frequent references to his mother had an
interest for Grant which he could not have analyzed or explained. During
the afternoon the merits of the pig were sung and re-sung, and at las