or she saw in it only some playmate's prank, and was not
much impressed by the mysterious sneeze and laugh.

"We'll have a grand rummage Monday, and find out what is going on over
there," was all she said.

But Mrs. Moss could not keep her promise, for on Monday it still
rained, and the little girls paddled off to school like a pair of young
ducks, enjoying every puddle they came to, since India rubber boots
made wading a delicious possibility. They took their dinner, and at
noon regaled a crowd of comrades with an account of the mysterious dog,
who appeared to be haunting the neighborhood, as several of the other
children had seen him examining their back yards with interest. He had
begged of them, but to none had he exhibited his accomplishments except
Bab and Betty, and they were therefore much set up, and called him "our
dog" with an air. The cake transaction remained a riddle, for Sally
Folsom solemnly declared that she was playing tag in Mamie Snow's barn
at that identical time. No one had been near the old house but the two
children, and no one could throw any light upon that singular affair.

It produced a great effect, however; for even "teacher" was interested,
and told such amazing tales of a juggler she once saw that doughnuts
were left forgotten in dinner-baskets, and wedges of pie remained
suspended in the air for several minutes at a time, instead of
vanishing with miraculous rapidity as usual. At afternoon recess, which
the girls had first, Bab nearly dislocated every joint of her little
body trying to imitate the poodle's antics. She had practiced on her
bed with great success, but the wood-shed floor was a different thing,
as her knees and elbows soon testified.

"It looked just as easy as anything; I don't see how he did it," she
said, coming down with a bump after vainly attempting to walk on her
hands.

"My gracious, there he is this very minute!" cried Betty, who sat on a
little wood-pile near the door.

There was a general rush, and sixteen small girls gazed out into the
rain as eagerly as if to behold Cinderella's magic coach, instead of
one forlorn dog trotting by through the mud.

"Oh, do call him in and make him dance!" cried the girls, all chirping
at once, till it sounded as if a flock of sparrows had taken possession
of the shed.

"_I_ will call him, he knows _me_," and Bab scrambled up, forgetting
how she had chased the poodle and called him names two days ago.

He evidently had