little fellow, refreshed by sleep,
sat up, and chattered gayly, feeling himself a hero, while his mother
went beside him holding on to any pat of his precious little body that
came handy, and never tired of hearing him say, "I knew Marmar would
come," or seeing him lean down to kiss her, and put a plump berry into
her mouth, "'Cause he picked 'em all for her."

The moon shone out just as they reached the avenue, and all the boys
came shouting to meet them, so the lost lambs were borne in triumph
and safety, and landed in the dining-room, where the unromantic little
things demanded supper instead of preferring kisses and caresses. They
were set down to bread and milk, while the entire household stood round
to gaze upon them. Nan soon recovered her spirits, and recounted her
perils with a relish now that they were all over. Rob seemed absorbed in
his food, but put down his spoon all of a sudden, and set up a doleful
roar.

"My precious, why do you cry?" asked his mother, who still hung over
him.

"I'm crying 'cause I was lost," bawled Rob, trying to squeeze out a
tear, and failing entirely.

"But you are found now. Nan says you didn't cry out in the field, and I
was glad you were such a brave boy."

"I was so busy being frightened I didn't have any time then. But I want
to cry now, 'cause I don't like to be lost," explained Rob, struggling
with sleep, emotion, and a mouthful of bread and milk.

The boys set up such a laugh at this funny way of making up for lost
time, that Rob stopped to look at them, and the merriment was so
infectious, that after a surprised stare he burst out into a merry,
"Ha, ha!" and beat his spoon upon the table as if he enjoyed the joke
immensely.

"It is ten o'clock; into bed, every man of you," said Mr. Bhaer, looking
at his watch.

"And, thank Heaven! there will be no empty ones to-night," added Mrs.
Bhaer, watching, with full eyes, Robby going up in his father's
arms, and Nan escorted by Daisy and Demi, who considered her the most
interesting heroine of their collection.

"Poor Aunt Jo is so tired she ought to be carried up herself," said
gentle Franz, putting his arm round her as she paused at the stair-foot,
looking quite exhausted by her fright and long walk.

"Let's make an arm-chair," proposed Tommy.

"No, thank you, my lads; but somebody may lend me a shoulder to lean
on," answered Mrs. Jo.

"Me! me!" and half-a-dozen jostled one another, all eager to be chosen,
for the