father's over his bold ears, he got Dicky to let him
out of the side-door. And then the brave boy went right across the heath
and three times up and down the village, till those boys that followed
him and the Goat home went for him near the corner of Wemyss Road, and
he made a fight for it, taking off the boards and using them as shields.
But at last, being far outnumbered, which is no disgrace, he had to
chuck the boards and run for it.

Saturday was fine. We had hung the greenhouse with evergreens and
paper roses that looked almost like real among the green, and Miss
Blake let us have some Chinesy-looking curtains to cover over the
shelves and staging with. And the gardener let us have a lot of azaleas
and things in pots, so that it was all very bowery and flowery.

Alice's stall was the smartest looking, because Miss Blake had let her
have all the ribbons and things that were over from the other bazaar.

H. O.'s stall was also nice--all on silver tea-trays, so as not to be
stickier than needful.

The poetry stall had more flowers on it than any of the others, to make
up for the poetry looking so dull outside. Of course, you could not see
the sweet inside the packets till you opened them. Red azaleas are
prettier than poetry, I think. I think the tropic lands in 'Westward
Ho!' had great trees with flowers like that.

We got the Goat into the stovehouse. He was to be kept a secret till the
very last. And by half-past two we were all ready, and very clean and
dressed. We had all looked out everything we thought anyone could want
to buy, and that we could spare, and some things we could not, and most
of these were on Oswald's table--among others, several boxes of games
we had never cared about; some bags of marbles, which nobody plays now;
a lot of old books; a pair of braces with wool-work on them, that an
aunt once made for Oswald, and, of course, he couldn't wear them; some
bags of odd buttons for people who like sewing these things on; a lot of
foreign stamps, gardening tools, Dicky's engine, that won't go, and a
stuffed parrot, but he was moth-eaten.

About three our friends began to come, Mrs. Leslie, and Lord Tottenham,
and Albert's uncle, and a lot of others. It was a very grand party, and
they admired the bazaar very much, and all bought things. Mrs. Leslie
bought the engine for ten shillings, though we told her honestly it
would never go again, and Albert's uncle bought the parrot, and would
not tell us