“Oh, well, I can find it by myself,” said Myrtle, and out she ran.

She didn’t have as fine a time as she expected.  She got tired and cross.  She looked for the plant by the roadside, and in the park, and on the lawns.  Whenever anyone spoke to her she answered crossly.  When the sun set, and warned her that it was time to go home, she hadn’t seen a thing that looked like the good-luck plant.  She shed a few tears as she ran home.

At the castle gate she heard a pleasant noise of laughter and happy voices in the garden.  “Could they have had a party without me?” she cried.

She darted in.  “Oh, Myrtle!” called her little brothers and sisters.  “What do you think!  Violet has found the good-luck plant, and she let us all hold it awhile, and we’ve had such a lovely time since lessons are done.”

Myrtle’s face flushed.  “You are a deceitful girl,” she said to her twin.  “You said you meant to stay home.”

“So I did,” said Violet.  She looked so happy and sweet that even cross Myrtle stopped frowning.  “I found it while I was weeding mother’s flower bed.  There it was among the pansies.  I knew it at once by the horseshoe shape on the leaves.”

THE QUEER BLACK CALF.

By Mattie W. Baker.

“Please tell us a story, grandpa,” said Arthur.

“A story about papa when he was a boy,” added Willie.

“Well, I’ll tell you what your papa did, right over there, when he was only four years old.”

“We had a very gentle old horse that we called Jenny.  When I came home from any place, and was going to turn her into the pasture, your papa always wanted to do it himself, so I would give him the end of the halter, and let him lead her through the lane to the bars.  He could drop down the ends of the bars, for they were only poles, and then Jenny would hold her head so that he could slip off the halter.

“Well, one time it was near night when I came home, and your papa was gone to the bars as usual, so it was growing dark when I saw him coming back.”

“‘What took you so long?’ I asked.  ’Didn’t Jenny hold her head down good?’

“‘Oh, yes,’ he said; ’but I saw a black calf out there in the bushes, and I thought I’d put the halter on him and lead him home.’

“‘There’s no calf in the pasture,’ I said.

“‘Yes, there was,’ he persisted—­’a funny-looking black calf!  I went up to him and tried to put on the halter, but he wouldn’t hold his head down when I told him to; and then he turned around and went off into the woods, so I came home.’

“I remembered then that a bear had been seen not far from us a few days before, and I wondered if my little boy had been trying to put a halter on a bear!

“I called the hired man, and got my gun, and we went over there.  It was not so dark but that we could see the bear’s tracks in the mud about the rock, and right among them were the tracks of your papa’s little shoes!”