The forest was full of shadows as a little girl hurried through it one summer evening in June. It was already eight o’clock and Sylvie wondered if her grandmother would be angry with her for being so late. Every evening Sylvie left her grandmother’s house at five-thirty to bring their cow home. The old animal spent her days out in the open country eating sweet grass. It was Sylvie’s job to bring her home to be milked. When the cow heard Sylvie’s voice calling her, she would hide among the bushes. This evening it had taken Sylvie longer than usual to find her cow. The child hurried the cow through the dark forest, following a narrow path that led to her grandmother’s home. The cow stopped at a small stream to drink. As Sylvie waited, she put her bare feet in the cold, fresh water of the stream. She had never before been alone in the forest as late as this. The air was soft and sweet. Sylvie felt as if she were a part of the gray shadows and the silver leaves that moved in the evening breeze. She began thinking how it was only a year ago that she came to her grandmother’s farm. Before that, she had lived with her mother and father in a dirty, crowded factory town. One day, Sylvie’s grandmother had visited them and had chosen Sylvie from all her brothers and sisters to be the one to help her on her farm in Vermont.