is hands were free. With one white-gloved finger he drew three short
lines in the packed dirt.

"And you _ought_ to be Down-Town," declared the little old gentleman,
halting too. "Because you're a Policeman with a level head."

A level head? Gwendolyn stooped to look. And saw that it was indeed a
fact!

"If I hadn't one," answered the Policeman with dignity, "would I be able
to stand up comfortably in this remarkable manner?"

"Oh, tee! hee! hee! hee!"

It was the nurse, her sleeve lifted, her blowzy face convulsed. As she
laughed, Gwendolyn saw wrinkle after wrinkle in the black sateen taken
up--with truly alarming rapidity.

"My!" she exclaimed. "Jane's always been stout. But now--!"

The Policeman was deepening the three short lines in the dirt, making a
capital A. "Two streets come together," he said, placing his finger on
the point of the letter. "And the block that connects 'em just before
they meet, that's the beat for _me_."

"I hope you'll get it," she said heartily.

"Get it!" he repeated bitterly. "Well, I certainly won't if I don't find
that Bird!" And he started forward once more.

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces, trudging alongside, craned to peer ahead, his
grizzled beard sticking straight out in front of him. "Now, let me see,"
he mused in a puzzled way. "Which route, I wonder, had we better take?"

"That depends on where we're going," replied the Policeman, helplessly.
"And with the Bird gone, of course I don't know."

"I'll tell you," said the little old gentleman promptly. "First, we
must cross the Glass--"

Gwendolyn gave him a quick glance. Surely he meant cross the _grass_.

"Yes, the Glass; go on," encouraged the Officer.

"--And find _him_." Those round dark eyes darted a quick glance at
Gwendolyn.

Jane, capering at his heels, now interrupted. "Find him!" she taunted.
"Gwendolyn'll never find her father if she don't listen to me."

He ignored her. "Next," he went on "we'll steer straight for Robin
Hood's Barn."

"Oh!" exclaimed the Policeman "Then we have to go around."

"_Every_body has to go around."

Once more Jane broke in. "Gwendolyn," she called, "you'll never find
your mother. This precious pair is takin' you the wrong way!"

Gwendolyn paid no heed. Ahead the road divided--to the left in a narrow
bridle-path, all loose soil and hoof-prints, and sharp turns; to the
right in a level thoroughfare that held a straight course. She touched
the little old gentleman's elbow. "Wh