very other thing," said Jack. "You
needn't bother about asking of him. All is, if he gets sassy you must
kick him out."

"I should like to see anybody kick that dog when I am round," said
Charley, doubling up his fist and looking warlike. "He would find that
he had got his match."

"We will shake hands on that," said Bertie. Which they did quite
solemnly.

And then they shook hands with Jack, and Towzer went back to have more
last words with Flora, and a parting embrace: and after they were gone
Flora was so drowsy, that she could not tell about her ride in the soap
man's little blue cart, her head drooped upon papa's shoulder, and her
eyelids were very heavy.

"She has not said her prayer," observed Bertie, who hoped she would keep
awake long enough to tell the story of her adventure.

"Try," said Charley.

"Yes, darling, try," urged Bertie.

But Flora was too far gone even to try; so mamma laid her gently down in
her own comfortable bed, where the rain and the wind could not disturb
her slumbers, and lovingly stroked the fair hair and the soft cheek.
She was very thankful that her little daughter was safe once more under
the dear home roof. But Flora thought she was lying out under the old
trees, and in her dreams could smell the sweet grass and the fresh
earth, and once she laughed aloud in her sleep; she was running away
from the rain and from the night.

When Charley and Bertie went home it was still raining fast. But they
had not far to go. They lived in the new brown cottage over the way, you
will remember, that was built to take the place of their old home,
destroyed by fire. When they were going down the steps, Charley struck
some object with his foot. "Holloa!" he said, and Bertie asked "What
now?"

"I have run against a snag," said Charley.

"Where away?"

"Down here next the bottom step. I have sent something flying."

"I don't see anything," said Bertie, groping about in the dark. "It
can't be good for much, if it has been out in this shower. Where did she
land?"

"Somewhere in the path. I should say you could not go far wrong, if you
were to follow your nose."

"Indeed!"

"It is precious damp."

"Awful!" said Bertie. "I cannot bear to think of Flora wandering round
in such a storm."

"It was rather rough on the Baby Pitcher," asserted Charley.

"It is bad enough to be lost in fair weather with daylight before you."

"I believe you. What is this?"

Bertie had stumbled upon the o