she would cry out the beloved little name in every tone
of tenderness, till the very echoes whispered it softly, and the winds
seemed to waft it willingly; but still no answer came.

The sky was overcast now, and only brief glimpses of the moon were seen,
heat-lightening darted out of the dark clouds now and then, and a faint
far-off rumble as of thunder told that a summer-storm was brewing.

"O my Robby! my Robby!" mourned poor Mrs. Jo, wandering up and down like
a pale ghost, while Dan kept beside her like a faithful fire-fly. "What
shall I say to Nan's father if she comes to harm? Why did I ever trust
my darling so far away? Fritz, do you hear any thing?" and when a
mournful, "No" came back, she wrung her hands so despairingly that Dan
sprung down from Toby's back, tied the bridle to the bars, and said, in
his decided way,

"They may have gone down the spring I'm going to look."

He was over the wall and away so fast that she could hardly follow him;
but when she reached the spot, he lowered the lantern and showed her
with joy the marks of little feet in the soft ground about the spring.
She fell down on her knees to examine the tracks, and then sprung up,
saying eagerly,

"Yes; that is the mark of my Robby's little boots! Come this way, they
must have gone on."

Such a weary search! But now some inexplicable instinct seemed to lead
the anxious mother, for presently Dan uttered a cry, and caught up a
little shining object lying in the path. It was the cover of the new
tin pail, dropped in the first alarm of being lost. Mrs. Jo hugged and
kissed it as if it were a living thing; and when Dan was about to utter
a glad shout to bring the others to the spot, she stopped him, saying,
as she hurried on, "No, let me find them; I let Rob go, and I want to
give him back to his father all myself."

A little farther on Nan's hat appeared, and after passing the place
more than once, they came at last upon the babes in the wood, both sound
asleep. Dan never forgot the little picture on which the light of his
lantern shone that night. He thought Mrs. Jo would cry out, but she
only whispered, "Hush!" as she softly lifted away the apron, and saw the
little ruddy face below. The berry-stained lips were half-open as the
breath came and went, the yellow hair lay damp on the hot forehead, and
both the chubby hands held fast the little pail still full.

The sight of the childish harvest, treasured through all the troubles of
that