Blue Bonnet took Solomon by the collar and pulled him closer to the boy. "Pet him," she said, "he won't hurt you." But at Solomon's friendly approach the child shrank away in terror.
"Gabriel has never known much about dogs," Miss Warren explained. "And just think, Miss Ashe, he's never seen a robin before! That's why he forgot to speak to you; he was entranced."
Entranced he was. The trees in bloom; the soft fragrant air swaying the leaves gently; the singing birds; Mrs. Patten's lazy yellow cat drowsing in the sunshine; the chickens cackling in the tiny barnyard, opened up a panorama before the child's wondering eyes that could scarcely be eclipsed by heaven itself. Only one who has lain for months in a hospital ward with blank walls and a sea of sick faces, could have appreciated the vision.
"'Tain't any better than this, is it—the place where we're goin'?"
"Well—" Blue Bonnet paused a moment before answering. She wondered if anything could be better than Woodford in the spring. She had grown to love it very dearly herself.
"There's the pony," she said at last. "You haven't forgotten about him, have you? And there are great stretches of land to gallop over as soon as you are well enough—and there's Uncle Cliff, and Uncle Joe and Benita. Benita adores little boys. Just wait until you hear some of her stories and taste her cookies."
"Stories 'bout Injuns and soldiers?"
"Yes, some."
Gabriel heaved a sigh of content and his head dropped back on the pillows contentedly.
"Guess it'll suit me all right," he said, "specially the pony. What you s'pose he looks like?"