“There is one condition,” said he, just as he had told Much-Afraid, “I must plant the seed of love in your hearts, or you will not be allowed to enter the Kingdom of Love of which the High Places are a part.” Then he showed them the thorn-shaped seeds, one of which he had planted in the heart of poor Much-Afraid when she tremblingly decided to follow him to the mountains.

Then Mrs. Dismal Forebodings and Gloomy at once bared their hearts so that he could plant the seeds there too, and with his own scarred hands the Shepherd did so. He then told them to go home and make themselves ready for the journey so that when he came to call them they would be ready to leave with him at once.

He himself walked back with them toward the village, and when they got there whom should they see coming down the street but Mrs. Valiant, looking dreadfully hot and breathless, and holding little Doldrums Self-Pity by the hand, literally dragging him along. He was a small but sturdy infant, and at that moment was quite unbelievably ugly. He had both feet planted on the ground and was leaning backwards, pulling with all his strength, so that really the veins were swelling on his baby face and he was bawling at the top of his voice, “I won’t go! Let me go, you horrid old woman! I won’t go with you, I won’t! I won’t! Mama! Mama!”

“Oh dear! Poor, kind Mrs. Valiant,” groaned Mrs. Dismal Forebodings, lapsing at once into her old desponding mood. “I tried to warn her how it would be. It looks as though the child will have a fit or burst a blood vessel! Could anyone imagine that a little creature of that size could have such a wicked temper! Oh dear! I really think he is going to choke himself to death!”

The Shepherd strode forward. “Hullo, my little man!” said he cheerfully. “Tell me, what is happening to make you so unhappy?”

Little Doldrums stopped bawling for a moment and opened his eyes and looked up. He appeared to hesitate as to whether he would bellow again or not. Then he put his finger in his mouth and stared in silence at the tall figure towering above him and at the kind face smiling down at him from such a height.

“What’s your name?” said the cheery voice.

“Doldrums,” lisped the youngest member of the family of Self-Pity. “What yours?”