She laid down her shuttle and looked up, clasping her hands behind her head, and turning her face upward to rest the aching place in the back of her neck. As she did so, her eyes encountered a pair of large, mild orbs, surmounted by a pair of crumpled horns, looking down directly into her face. There was the missing cow! She had, no doubt, tired of her ramble, and was proceeding soberly homewards, when she was surprised by the sight of her little mistress sitting by the side of the road. Crummie and Nelly were on the most intimate terms of affection and confidence. Nelly never beat or abused her, never overdrove her or forgot to give her water; and Crummie loved Nelly as if she had been her own calf. Indeed, the people on the street where they lived were often amused to see the cow stop and low after the little girl if Nelly lingered behind for a moment to chat with the other children; and when Nelly was younger, it used to be a question whether it was Crummie that took care of Nelly, or Nelly that took care of Crummie.
"You dear, naughty old thing!" exclaimed Nelly, jumping up, throwing her arms round the cow's neck and giving her a good hug. "How dared you serve poor granny such a trick while I was gone, and keep me all this time running after you? A'n't you ashamed of yourself, madam? Tell me that!"
Perhaps Crummie's feelings were too deep for utterance. At any rate, she made no reply, good or bad, to Nelly's question; but bending down her head as soon as she was released, she began to crop the grass which grew luxuriantly by the road-side.
"Indeed and that is a very good notion of yours, my lady!" said Nelly. "The grass is far better than on the common, and I may as well watch you here as anywhere else." So saying, Nelly settled herself on the stone and again took up her shuttle, while Crummie went on feeding placidly beside her. She did not notice that a gentleman passing stopped to look at her, and then, taking out a square book from his pocket, began sketching with a pencil. She worked away for some time, growing more and more intent; and at last, dropping her work in her lap, she broke into a joyful exclamation:—
"I've got it! I've done it! I've got it right! I've made three scollops right! I've got it at last! Oh, a'n't I glad, though!"
"What have you got, my little girl?" asked a kind voice.
Nelly looked round, blushing at the thought that she had been overheard. The gentleman with the sketch-book stood looking down at her with a kindly, amused smile.
"What is it you, have been working at so hard all this time that I have been looking at you?" asked the gentleman.
"I have been trying to make tatting," replied Nelly; "and I couldn't make it go for ever so long."
"You have been very persevering," remarked the gentleman. "I am afraid my Nelly would have thrown away the work in a pet long before she had worked such a while as you have."