they were all turning their eyes reproachful-like on her. The sun
had gone in now in the heavens, and the children, who had no sunshine in
their hearts just then, had a vivid consciousness that it was late
autumn, and that the summer was quite at an end.

As they neared the rise in the moor which hid Sleepy Hollow from view,
David suddenly changed his position from the rear to the van. As they
approached the house he stooped down, picked up a small piece of paper,
looked at it, uttered a cry of fear and recognition, and ran off as fast
as ever he could to the house.

"What a queer boy David is!" was on Polly's lips; but she could scarcely
say the words before he came out again. His face was deadly white, he
shook all over, and the words he tried to say only trembled on his lips.

"What is it, David?" said the twins, running up to him.

"She'll believe me now," said David.

He panted violently, his teeth chattered.

"Oh! David, you frighten us! What can be the matter? Polly, come here!
Nell, come and tell us what is the matter with David."

The elder girls, and the rest of the children, collected in the porch.
Polly, the tallest of all, looked over the heads of the others. She
caught sight of David's face, and a sudden pain, a queer sense of fear,
and the awakening of a late remorse, filled her breast.

"What is it, David?" she asked, with the others; but her voice shook,
and was scarcely audible.

"She's done it!" said David. "The baby's gone! It's Flower! She was in
one of her passions, and she has taken the baby away. I said she wasn't
like other girls. Nurse thinks perhaps the baby'll die. What is
it?--oh, Polly! what is it!" For Polly had given one short scream, and,
pushing David and every one aside, rushed wildly into the house.

She did not hear the others calling after her; she heard nothing but a
surging as of great waves in her ears, and David's words echoing along
the passages and up the stairs "Perhaps the baby will die!" She did not
see her father, who held out his arms to detain her. She pushed Alice
aside without knowing that she touched her. In a twinkling she was at
the nursery door; in a twinkling she was kneeling by the empty cot, and
clasping the little frilled pillow on which baby's head used to rest
passionately to her lips.

"It's true, then!" she gasped, at last. "I know now what David meant; I
know now why he warned me. Oh Nursie! Nursie! it's my fault!"

"No, no, my darling!" said