she started back to the house.

Neighbor Newman's boy saw Bobby's kite and went into his house to make
one. Boys in the village saw it and began to make kites.

When it had been flying for some time, the wind began to blow harder,
and the kite tugged and tugged on the string.

Suddenly, there was a strong gust of wind.

Snap went the string.

Away went the kite.

Bobby ran after it, to catch it when it fell. But it soon blew out of
sight over the patch of woods. Then he sadly wound up the string that
was left and went slowly to the house.

"My kite flew away," said he to Mother. "And it was the best one I ever
had."

Meanwhile, the kite went sailing along.

"It's my kite," said the West Wind. And he tried to blow it toward the
Little Red Schoolhouse.

"No, it's my kite," said the North Wind. And he tried to blow it toward
the clouds.

In spite of them both, the kite began to fall. Zigzag it went, first one
way, then another, across the road where the Little Red Schoolhouse
stood, to an open field on the other side.

Mr. Hill was just coming home from the city on that road. As he was
driving along, he saw the kite falling.

"Whoa, Prince," he said to the horse.

Prince stopped. Mr. Hill got out of the buggy and climbed over the
fence. "Perhaps I can catch it," he thought. Just before he got to it,
the kite came to the ground. Mr. Hill picked it up.

"What a fine kite!" he said. "I wonder what boy lost it. I'll inquire at
the houses as I go along."

He wound up the string, gathered up all the tail and went back to the
buggy. He started to put it under the seat; but as he did so, his eye
fell on something written on the cross-stick. It was the name Mrs. Hill
had written there--Bobby Hill.

"Well, well!" said he. "So it's Bobby's kite, is it?"

He put it under the seat, got into the buggy and drove toward home.

Father meant to give the kite to Bobby as soon as he reached home, but
when he drove into the yard, there was a man waiting to see him on
business; so he forgot all about it.

Bobby's big brother John unhitched Prince, put him into the stable and
pushed the buggy into the carriage-house.

So there was Bobby's fine kite lying under the buggy seat, all unknown.

The next day, Grandfather helped Bobby make another kite. But perhaps it
was not made of the right kind of wood, or the cross-piece was not at
just the right place. Anyhow, it had not gone up far when it dived to
the ground and was