"
"And so have I, Daniel. I had the idea that she would return, and
several times I started at the least noise, expecting to see her at the
door."
"I do not wish to deprive the mother of her baby," the parson
thoughtfully mused, "but how I should like to keep him! He seems to
belong to us. In fact, he has made himself perfectly at home already."
Parson Dan was astir unusually early the next morning. He stood before
the rectory looking up and down the road, uncertain which course to
take in search of the missing Brindle.
"Let me see," he considered, "that fence is down on the upper side, and
most likely those cows have made their way up the road. I guess I had
better hunt there first."
As he stood there his eyes roamed over the scene before him. The
rectory was situated upon a gentle elevation, surrounded by tall,
graceful elms, and large branching maples. Below the road was the
parish church, standing where it had stood for almost one hundred
years, amid its setting of elms, maples, and oaks. Nearby was the
cemetery, where the numerous shafts of marble and granite could be
plainly seen from the road. To the right and left were pretty
cottages, for the most part closed, as they belonged to people from the
city, who, like the swallows, having spent their summer in this
beautiful spot, had flitted at the approach of winter.
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