ed.

"Look! there! it's come back!" said Bab in an awe-stricken whisper,
pointing to the table.

Betty did look and her eyes opened even wider,--as well they
might,--for there, just where they first put it, was the lost cake,
unhurt, unchanged, except that the big B. had coasted a little further
down the gingerbread hill.

CHAPTER II.

WHERE THEY FOUND HIS MASTER.

Neither spoke for a minute, astonishment being too great for words;
then, as by one impulse, both stole up and touched the cake with a
timid little finger, quite prepared to see it fly away in some
mysterious and startling manner. It remained sitting tranquilly in the
basket, however, and the children drew a long breath of relief, for,
though they did not believe in fairies, the late performances did seem
rather like witchcraft.

"The dog didn't eat it!"

"Sally didn't take it!"

"How do you know?"

"_She_ never would have put it back."

"Who did?"

"Can't tell, but I forgive 'em."

"What shall we do now?" asked Betty, feeling as if it would be very
difficult to settle down to a quiet tea-party after such unusual
excitement.

"Eat that cake up just as fast as ever we can," and Bab divided the
contested delicacy with one chop of the big knife, bound to make sure
of her own share at all events.

It did not take long, for they washed it down with sips of milk and ate
as fast as possible, glancing round all the while to see if the queer
dog was coming again.

"There! now I'd like to see any one take _my_ cake away," said Bab,
defiantly crunching her half of the pie-crust B.

"Or mine either," coughed Betty, choking over a raisin that wouldn't go
down in a hurry.

"We might as well clear up, and play there had been an earthquake,"
suggested Bab, feeling that some such convulsion of nature was needed
to explain satisfactorily the demoralized condition of her family.

"That will be splendid. My poor Linda was knocked right over on her
nose. Darlin' child, come to your mother and be fixed," purred Betty,
lifting the fallen idol from a grove of chickweed, and tenderly
brushing the dirt from Belinda's heroically smiling face.

"She'll have croup to-night as sure as the world. We'd better make up
some squills out of this sugar and water," said Bab, who dearly loved
to dose the dollies all round.

"P'r'aps she will, but you needn't begin to sneeze yet awhile. I can
sneeze for my own children, thank you, ma'am," returned Betty, sharply,