Here was another disappointment, and a very sore one.

Every summer, as far back as she could remember, Rob Moore had been her favourite playfellow.

Now there would be no more mad Tam O'Shanter races, with Rob clattering along beside her on his big iron-gray horse.

No more good times with the best and jolliest of little neighbours.

A summer without Rob's cheery whistle and good-natured laugh would seem as empty and queer as the woods without the bird voices, or the meadows without the whirr of humming things.