oy."

"My gracious, I guess I will."

Off ran little Ned Atkinson, as fast as his legs would carry him.

He told every one he met, but no one had seen Clematis.

Not far down the street Mr. Knapp came rolling out of his yard.

"Have you seen that little girl of ours, Mr. Knapp?"

"Yes, yes. I saw her. She's a likely gal. Quite spry."

"Where was she?" Both men spoke at once.

[Illustration: "I sha'n't be afraid"]

"Oh, right along here, yesterday morning."

"I mean today. Have you seen her today?"

"No, no, I haven't set eyes on her today. What's the matter? Is she
lost?"

"It looks as if she were lost. We can't find her."

"Well, she'll be back.

'Let 'em alone,
And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them.'"

They heard his great voice echo down the river, as they drove on.

Nobody had seen Clematis. Nobody knew anything about her.

Mrs. Alder looked everywhere at home.

Her bag and box were neatly packed and ready, but there was no sign
of the little girl who owned them.

Many people were looking for Clematis that afternoon.

Ned Atkinson ran everywhere, telling people about the lost girl.

They looked in the woods and in the fields. They looked all along
the river banks.

When night came, they were still hunting, but had found no trace of
Clematis.

"I can't sleep a wink tonight," said Mrs. Alder. "I think the child
must be crazy, to run off like that."

"I don't feel much like sleep myself," Mr. Alder replied.

"I wonder where she can be hiding."

The next morning many people came to ask if Clematis had been
found.

"No, no, no. There isn't a sign of her anywhere. I don't know what
we shall do."

Mrs. Alder made the same answer to every one.

During the day people still looked about in new places.

Afternoon came again, but no Clematis came with it.

Towards evening, Mr. Brooks was sitting in his chair by his little
cottage, reading a book.

The sun was sinking behind the mountains in the west.

The birds were singing their evening songs, in the trees by the
brook.

All was quiet and peaceful.

As he sat there, Mr. Brooks heard steps on the path.

He looked down and saw a little girl. In her arms was a cat, with a
black spot over one eye.

The child stumbled as she walked. She seemed ready to drop, she was
so tired.

"Why, little girl, where did you come from?" cried Mr. Brooks.

He got up and went