Amy was on her knees in a moment, clasping the child's slight body in her arms and saying:—
"Then I'm glad, glad that you are to have Pepita. She is the dearest, nicest burro—except when she's bad—and will carry you wherever you want to go,—that is, if she is willing. You dear little girl, she shall be yours, without that money either. I never knew about you before, or you should have had her before, too."
"'THEN I'M GLAD, GLAD THAT YOU ARE TO HAVE PEPITA.'"
Mr. Metcalf smiled, well pleased. His blind daughter was the idol of his flock, and anybody who was attracted by her became interesting to him. Amy had been so, even before this incident, but he liked her heartily now.
"So, Miss Amy, though you hated to part with your burro for money, you would do so willingly for love and sympathy?"
"Why, of course. If I'd only known—"
"You will not make a good business woman, at this rate. But this wind is sharp. I mustn't keep Nanette out here long, else her mother will worry, and that wouldn't do. Suppose, since you know more about donkeys than I do, that you give my girl her first riding lesson. Reach Miss Amy your hand, dear heart."
Amy caught the little white-mittened fingers in her own and kissed them impulsively. Then she rose and placed the child on Pepita's saddle.