've dot to the end of it
now. Hope we'll soon det back to our dood old egg."

"But let's go see how it is over there first," said Puck. "Ducky, ducky,
come and carry us across."

"Ow! but then my little white frock will det all dirty," said Blossom.

"What does that matter?" answered Puck; "we shall see how it is over
there." Over there was very much the same as it was over here. The duck
ducked them finely.

"So you'll know how it is down here too," he said.

Dripping, they stood upon the shore.

[Illustration]

"Ow! ow!" sobbed Blossom, looking very miserable indeed; "if it doesn't
det better soon, I don't want to see anything more at all, I don't."

[Illustration]

"Of course it'll get better," said Puck; "the sun'll dry us." The sun
looked out condescendingly from the clouds for a moment, and then
disappeared. "Come, Blossom," said Puck, "who cares for the old sun!
Just as though there wasn't fire anywhere but up there! There's some
down here too. I know where it lives--down there in that little house."

Yes, down there in that little house.

[Illustration]

"In the ashes, inside the stove," said the cat, who was looking after
things while the cook was away.

"It's asleep," said Puck. "Wait; I'll soon wake it up." So he blew and
he blew, but it would not wake up at all. The sparks looked out at him
with grim and wrathful eyes, while Puck blew more and more madly on.

[Illustration]

At last it did wake up. It sprang out of the stove, wild and raging; it
grew bigger and bigger; the children fled, the fire behind them--Blossom
ahead, terrified, shrieking, screaming.

The fire had caught Puck, had wrapped him round in a great sheet of
flame!

But Blossom cried, and cried, and cried, so bitterly that the fire was
all put out, and there was nothing left but a great black smoke.

[Illustration]

Then Puck gathered together all there was left of him, and they went
sorrowfully on their way to find their egg.

[Illustration]

Ah me! it was broken in two, and gone. But the nest was still hanging on
the tree. In great haste they climbed in, never venturing to leave it
again, and if they are not dead, they are sitting there still.

THE END.

[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]

SOUTH WINDSOR, CONNECTICUT.

We live near the Connecticut River, and when I am out of school I
hunt ducks and musk-rats. I like to ride horseback when I can get
a horse, which is not often, but