But he was better than comforted when Gibbie offered him all that yet remained to him; and the smile with which he refused it made Gibbie as happy as a prince would like to be.
What a day it had been for Gibbie! A whole human being, and some five and twenty four-legged creatures besides, to take care of! After their dinner, Donal gravitated to his book, and Gibbie resumed the executive.

Some time had passed when Donal, glancing up, saw Gibbie lying flat on his chest, staring at something in the grass.
He slid himself quietly nearer, and discovered it was a daisy--one by itself alone; there were not many in the field.

Like a mother leaning over her child, he was gazing at it.

The daisy was not a cold white one, neither was it a red one; it was just a perfect daisy: it looked as if some gentle hand had taken it, while it slept and its star points were all folded together, and dipped them--just a tiny touchy dip, in a molten ruby, so that, when it opened again, there was its crown of silver pointed with rubies all about its golden sun-heart.
"He's been readin' Burns!" said Donal.

He forgot that the daisies were before Burns, and that he himself had loved them before ever he heard of him.