"I'm so sorry—" Blue Bonnet began to speak as soon as she came within sight of her grandmother, "—I didn't mean to be so late."
"I can't quite understand, Blue Bonnet, why you and Kitty could not come back with the other girls. It is long past noon." Mrs. Clyde had been worried, and required more of an explanation than an apology. Blue Bonnet's tired face and dusty, dishevelled clothes spoke eloquently of adventure.
"I stopped to pick up a lamb,—its mother had gone on with the flock and left it to starve. Shady says lots of sheep don't care about their children. That's why he likes beef-critters best,—cows always make good mothers. And Kitty and I found the shepherd and gave him the lamb to take care of."
The annoyance faded from Grandmother's face and her eyes softened.
Uncle Joe, who had been an interested listener, spoke up—"Say, Honey, why didn't you bring the lamb home?—fresh meat is just what we've been needing."
"Uncle Joe!" Horror rang in Blue Bonnet's voice. "Do you think I'd have eaten that poor little darling?"
He scratched a puzzled head. "Why seems like I've known you to eat nice young roast lamb, Blue Bonnet."
"That's different," she insisted.
"The only acquaintances Blue Bonnet is willing to have roasted are her friends!" said Kitty; and Blue Bonnet generously let her have the last word.
