lack baby whispered her wishes in the ear of
her mistress, and Flora was quite willing to oblige her. When they went
out, the steps of the porch were dry, and there was no longer any mist;
so Flora was at liberty to go where she pleased. That is to say, she was
at liberty to go wherever mamma pleased. Down to the barn, over to
auntie's, where Charley and Bertie lived, or in to see Grandma; but she
was not to wander away or play in the public street, and she was on no
account to go where she could not keep home in view. She might roam
about the grounds all day if she liked; and there was the big tree down
in the garden, with a broad seat around it, where she could play house
or picnic, or anything that could be played with only Dinah to help her.
But it often happened that she did not care to go to any of these
places. She would have liked to open the big gate (but that was
forbidden,) and follow the noisy ducks down to the pond, and now she
looked with longing eyes to a group of merry boys who ought to have been
in school, but were playing in the muddy street instead. She thought how
nice it would be to have one's own way always, and not be obliged to ask
mamma everything. She was strongly tempted to join the party of rough,
rude boys. There was not a girl among them.

"I think it is too bad," she complained to Dinah, "and it ought to be a
pity. Big girls know where they want to go better than mamma does. Don't
they? Course they do. Did you say no? That is what mamma says. So you
may turn your head round. If you don't look that way, you will forget
all about it. And I will."

Flora was right. She turned her head and forgot all about it. There was
something else to think of. Somebody was getting over the wall at the
foot of the garden. Who was it? She ran to the other end of the porch to
see.

"Is that you?" she called. No answer. "Is that _you_, I say?"

Bertie (for it was Bertie,) looked up and nodded. He came across the
beds that were covered with the dry stalks and stems of last year's
flowers, and up the path, quite slowly.

"Hurry," cried Flora, impatiently.

Bertie shook his head to signify that he could not hurry, and then she
saw that he carried something in both hands, and he carried it
carefully.

"What is it," she demanded.

"Hush!" said Bertie. "It is a timid little thing, and you must not make
a noise. You can come up softly and look."

He cautiously parted his hands, and Flora looked in; but the