here do you live," she asked, looking about curiously, as if she
thought he had some kind of a nest near at hand.

"Oh, far away--at the other side of the woods."

"Won't you come and live with me? Do!"

"No indeed, gypsy: I must go home. See, the sun is almost down. You
had better go too: your mother will be anxious."

"I have no mother, and my flowers are all dead. I wish you would be my
pet--I wish you would come with me;" and her lip trembled.

"My gracious, child! what would the old lady at home say? Why, there
would be an awful row."

"Never mind, come," she answered coaxingly, rubbing her head against
his sleeve like a kitten. "Come, I will love you so much."

"You go home," he said, patting her head, "and I will come again some
day, and will bring you flowers."

"The flowers are all dead," she replied, shaking her head.

"I can make some grow. Go now, run away: let me see you off."

She looked for a moment at this superior being, who could make flowers
grow and could live without the care of a nurse, and then, obeying the
stronger intelligence, she trotted off toward home.

And now life contained new pleasure for Nellie, for the boy was
large-hearted and kind, coming almost daily to take her with him on
his excursions. Indeed, he was as lonely as the child, companions
being difficult to find in that out-of-the-way neighborhood, and the
odd little thing amused him. She would trudge bravely by his side
when he went to fish, or carry his bag when he went gunning; and his
promise of flowers was redeemed with gifts from the conservatory,
which enhanced her opinion of this divinity, seeing that they were
even more beautiful than those of her own fields. Often, when tired of
sport, Danby would read to her, sitting in the shade of forest trees,
stories of pirates and robbers or of wonderful adventures: these were
the afternoons she enjoyed the most.

One day, seeing her lips grow bright and her eyes dark from her
intense interest in the story, he offered her the book as he was
preparing to go, saying, "Take it home, Nellie, and read it."

She took the volume in her hand eagerly, looked at the page a little
while, a puzzled expression gradually passing over her face, until
finally she turned to him open-eyed and disappointed, saying simply,
"I can't."

"Oh try!"

"How shall I try?"

"It begins _there_: now go on, it is easy. _There_" he repeated,
pointing to the word, "go on," he added impatiently.