ke a sea-gull.

This made Hetty cry out, but nothing could induce that baby to let go,
until a pail with some shells changed the current of his thoughts.
Hetty jumped away, and ran with the children, a few steps, to see
Tony's boat.

He threw in his basket and crabbing net and then, getting in himself,
he pulled out into the bay. The children wandered along, watching Tony
as he grew a lessening speck out in the sunshine. It was such fun to
jump on the stones, over the water; the shells looked more beautiful
here, because they were wet.

They staid longer than they thought, and on going back, they found the
pail and the shells, but no baby! They called, they looked about, but
the baby was gone! Every one of them cried bitter tears; they searched
behind rocks and under bushes; his little pink, spotted cap could not
be seen, but the marks of his hands and feet showed plainly in the
sand, and they led down to the water!

"Oh, baby," said Hetty in her agony, "you may pull out all my hair if
you like--where are you?"

"Oo may whack my boat all to pieces, baby--come back to Janey!" said
her sister. No sound answered, and the gulls sailed over them, and the
blue waters lapped the stones. The tide was rising, as it was past the
middle of the afternoon. Nothing was to be done, but to carry the
dreadful news to mother.

As the children approached the cottage, they saw their father
returning with the dog, Flora, and as the father caught sight of them
he saw that something had happened. Hetty approached, and, with
heart-broken sobs, told her story. The mother cried and wrung her
hands.

"Husband, he's drowned! he's drowned!" she cried. The father brushed
his hand roughly across his eyes, for the tears would come; and the
dog staring from one to the other, looked painfully alert and
interested.

"I'll go to the beach and search all night; maybe he'll be washed up
at the bend," he said.

"Father," said the weeping wife, "maybe he has not been drowned; oh,
let us hope he has not! Let us take Flora; perhaps she will find the
baby."

The father looked at the dog, which seemed to understand every word,
and went into the house and picked up a little Indian moccasin that
the child had worn, and calling Flora, gave it to her. She looked at
it, smelled of it, and throwing her nose into the air, rushed toward
the beach.

The short, sharp barks of the dog guided them to the different spots
to which the child had crept. But he w