fast, and with so little noise, that Elsy only looked up to see if a
bird had flown in over the low half-door.

Tired of her blocks at last, Elsy went and tugged at the door, and made
the latch rattle. Robin opened one eye--the one toward the house--and
half-cocked an ear. But Elsy kept up the rattle long enough for him to
get used to it, and drawing his tail closer under his nose, he ceased
paying any attention to the child. He knew she was behind the door. He
had done his full duty by standing on his hind-legs against it, and
looking to see what she was about before he settled himself for his nap.
She rattled the latch every day, but she had never been able to lift
it--he needn't have _that_ on his mind. So, by-and-by, when the crown of
her little white head showed itself above the door, Robin was dozing
away, more sleepy than ever.

She had pushed her block-box close to the sill, and stepped on it to
take another view of the latch. For Elsy was enterprising, and had no
more idea than have other two-year-old babies of remaining in ignorance
of any new and untried danger. Of course she succeeded at last, and so
easily that she pushed the door open and let herself backward down the
steps without waking the dog.

The oldest mother goose in the barn-yard was as energetic as Elsy. She
quacked about among her neighbors until she collected the whole flock,
and then matronized them down to the big shallow pond in front of the
house. They pottered a good deal on the way among mud-puddles, for there
had been a shower the night before.

Dame Evans pottered too in the dairy, but that was because pretty Miss
Ruth Haverly called to bespeak some of the butter before it should be
sent to market, and was trying her hands at the printing. Very soft
white hands they were, and Mrs. Evans enjoyed watching them.

"There," she said, "that one is a beauty!" as Ruth turned one of the
yellow balls into a dish. But she never would have allowed anybody else
to meddle so with her butter. A spot on the dairy shelf would have been
as great a crime as a speck on the snow-white kerchief crossed on her
bosom. But no thought would she have taken of the butter, nor even of
dainty Miss Ruth, had she known what Elsy was doing. Nor would Barbara
have cared so much about the bread. She was singing, and did not hear
Elsy fumbling with the door-latch.

But the child had trotted by Robin Hood, down the long path, all the way
to the river, and was so ple