A White Heron

The woods were already filled with shadows one June evening, just before eight o'clock, although a bright sun, low in the west, still shone through the trees. A little girl was driving home her cow, a slow-moving, annoying creature, but also a good companion among the shadowy trees. Their way home was deep in the woods, but their feet knew the path very well, so the darkness did not matter.

It often took a long time to find the cow before Sylvia could bring her home. The cow seemed to enjoy hiding among the bushes. She wore a loud bell around her neck, but the clever creature had discovered that the bell did not ring if she stood very still. Luckily, the cow gave good milk and lots of it, so her owners did not mind about her hiding. And Sylvia had all the time in the world, and very little to do in that time except chase the cow.

The cow had now decided she wanted to go home, and stepped along the path more quickly. Sylvia wondered what her grandmother would say, because they were very late. It was a long time since she had left home at half-past five. But Mrs Tilley had chased the cow herself on many summer evenings and knew how difficult the old cow could be. She also knew that Sylvia loved being outside in the woods and fields. It was a great change for a little girl who had lived for eight years in a crowded noisy town full of factories.

Old Mrs Tilley had chosen Sylvia from her daughter's houseful of children, to come and live with her at the farm. Sylvia was 'afraid of people', her mother said, but Mrs Tilley just laughed. 'I guess she won't be troubled much with people up at the old place!'

So the old grandmother took Sylvia away. And when at last they reached the door of the lonely farmhouse, and the cat came to walk around their legs purring loudly, Sylvia whispered that this was a beautiful place to live in, and she would never wish to go home.

That was a year ago, and now the girl and the cow followed the shadowy path through the woods. The cow stopped to drink in a little river, and Sylvia stood still and waited, letting her feet cool themselves in the shallow water. Up above her, in the great branches of the tall trees, the leaves moved gently in a little wind, and the birds were singing, preparing for the night. Sylvia herself felt sleepy, but it was not far to the house now, and the air was soft and sweet. She felt that she belonged in this quiet world of gray shadows and moving leaves, and her life in the noisy town seemed far away.