After this Owlet went out, to wander through the garden, with no companion but her bull pup, George Thomas, leaving Roma to read alone until the child was called in to supper and to bed.
The next day the rector came, early in the forenoon.
As he rode up to the house on his easy-going old brown mare he saw Owlet walking on the lawn, with her shadow, Ducky Darling, waddling by her side.
They had just got through their morning lessons, which in the duckling’s case had been quite as unsuccessful as those of the preceding Saturday—her notions of imbibing knowledge being to chew it up.
The minister dismounted, tied his horse to a post, and came up to the children.
“Well, Miss Catherine, how do you do?” he inquired, patting Owlet’s cheek.
“Pretty well, I thank you, sir. How do you do yourself?” inquired Owlet, on her best behavior.
“Well, thank you.”
“This,” said Owlet, introducing the duckling, “is Ducky Darling. And, oh! isn’t she just too sweet for anything?”
Dr. Shaw smiled benevolently, and patted the little curly head of the black child, who responded to the caress with her lovely smile.