of stone in her shoes,
but neither frightened nor concerned about those from whom she had
wandered.

Meanwhile Quillie, from her high perch on the hay, began wondering why
her little companion was so silent. She supposed Julie was behind her,
but, fearful of tumbling, she had been still as a mouse. She twisted
about now, a little uneasily, and called Julie, but there was no
response. Then Mr. Brown helped her to dismount, and still no Julie was
to be seen. So she went into the house, procured a book, and sat on the
piazza. Presently nurse came in.

"Where's Julie?" cried Quillie.

"Where?--was she not with you?"

"No, she was not on the hay-cart."

"Then she must be with the boys."

"No; they are in the barn."

"Then she is hiding. Go and look for her. I must get your rooms in order
now." So nurse went in.

Quillie tried to read, but her thoughts were like thistle-down. Where
could Julie be? She sought her all about the house; peeped into all
sorts of corners. Then she went to the barn. Had the boys seen Julie?
No; and they were whittling, making a boat, and couldn't be bothered.

"I wish, Fred, that you had not been so rude to Julie."

Fred looked up, surprised. "Rude! when was I rude?"

"You called her 'little Frenchy,' and imitated her."

"Did I? Oh yes, I remember something of that sort. But she isn't huffy,
you know; she's a bright little chick."

Quillie thought so too, and was getting very lonely.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened, and the great conch shell was blown
for the men to come in to their early supper, nurse came down to summon
the children in to tidy themselves; and when she found Quillie crying in
a corner, and no Julie yet to be seen, she too became uneasy. Where
could the child have gone? She questioned everybody. No one had seen
her. All remembered the little brown hat with its wreath of daisies.
Fortunately the farm was a safe place; there was no water to fear.
Perhaps she had fallen asleep somewhere. All would hunt for her after
supper. And all did hunt, but no one found her.

The moon, like a silver sickle, hung in the sky; the frogs croaked; the
soft sweet air puffed out the muslin curtains, and brought in the
fragrance of the new-mown hay. The children, too tired to be much
alarmed, went to their beds without their usual gambols. Mr. Brown
hitched his weary horses, and declared his intention of remaining out
all night unless he found Julie. Poor nurse was in a fever of a