um, 'n' nuther does he. And not bein' sure o' your
intentions, he ain't a-goin' to give hisself away; that's the way I size
Mr. Rags up!"

"Nice doggy, nice doggy!" shuddered Miss Vilda, as Rags precipitated
himself upon her again. "Show me where Timothy is, and then we'll go
back home and have some nice bones. Run and find your little master,
that's a good doggy!"

It would be a clever philosopher who could divine Rags's special method
of logic, or who could write him down either as fool or sage. Suffice it
to say that, at this moment (having run in all other possible
directions, and wishing, doubtless, to keep on moving), he ran round the
wood-pile; and Miss Vilda, following close behind, came upon a little
figure stretched on a bit of gray blanket. The pale face shone paler in
the moonlight; there were traces of tears on the cheeks; but there was a
heavenly smile on his parted lips, as if his dream-mother had rocked him
to sleep in her arms. Rags stole away to Jabe (for even mixed dogs have
some delicacy), and Miss Vilda went down on her knees beside the
sleeping boy.

"Timothy, Timothy, wake up!"

No answer.

"Timothy, wake up! I've come to take you home!"

Timothy woke with a sob and a start at that hated word, and seeing Miss
Vilda at once jumped to conclusions.

"Please, please, dear Miss Vildy, don't take me to the Home, but find me
some other place, and I'll never, never run away from it!"

"My blessed little boy, I've come to take you back to your own home at
the White Farm."

It was too good to believe all at once. "Nobody wants me there," he said
hesitatingly.

"Everybody wants you there," replied Miss Vilda, with a softer note in
her voice than anybody had ever heard there before. "Samantha wants
you, Gay wants you, and Jabe is waiting out here with Maria, for he
wants you."

"But do you want me?" faltered the boy.

"I want you more than all of 'em put together, Timothy; I want you, and
I need you most of all," cried Miss Vilda, with the tears coursing down
her withered cheeks; "and if you'll only forgive me for hurtin' your
feelin's and makin' you run away, you shall come to the White Farm and
be my own boy as long as you live."

"Oh, Miss Vildy, darling Miss Vildy! are we both of us adopted, and are
we truly going to live with you all the time and never have to go to the
Home?" Whereupon, the boy flung his loving arms round Miss Vilda's neck
in an ecstasy of gratitude; and in that sweet