e, Flossy,' said Peter, 'if you are quite certain sure that
mother said the workhouse, that she didn't say nothing about Dickory Dock
being put to sleep in another room, or maybe down in the kitchen--if you
are quite positive about the workhouse, Flossy, why, I know what I'll
do.'

'She did say the workhouse,' answered Flossy; 'I heard her with my own
ears, and Mr Martin said it was a stream measure. I don't know what he
meant by that, but I do know that mother said the workhouse, and that she
has got till to-morrow morning to take baby away.'

'No, she hasn't,' said Peter; 'we'll take her away first, you and me,
Flossy--you and me and Snip-snap--we'll take our little baby away, and
we'll hide her. Dickory shall never go to no workhouse!'

Here Dickory looked up again at Peter, who looked down at her and kissed
her, and two tears splashed from his eyes on her little face.

'Oh, what a dear baby she is!' said Flossy. 'Yes, Peter, we'll run away,
and we'll take Dickory. Where shall we take her to, Peter?'

'Oh, I don't know,' said Peter. 'We'll get her out of this, that's the
first thing. How much money have you got, Flossy?'

'A crooked halfpenny,' said Flossy, in a decided voice.

Peter sighed. He was older than Flossy, and he knew that a crooked
halfpenny did not represent a large capital.

'I have got sixpence,' he said; 'that'll buy milk for her. We'll manage
quite well, Floss. When mother goes out with her market-basket, we'll
slip downstairs with Dickory, and well take her away, and we'll hide her
somewhere. She shan't go to no workhouse, the darling pet!'

'No, that she shan't, the dear!' said Flossy. 'It's a lovely plan,
Peter, and I'll just go and watch on the top of the stairs for mother to
go out with the old market-basket.'

'We'd better take a bag with us,' said Peter. 'The bag will come in very
handy; it will hold baby's milk when we buy it, and some bread for you
and me; for we may have to walk a long way before we find a nice hiding-
place for Dickory.'

Children seldom take long in carrying out their resolutions, and Mrs
Franklin, puzzled and anxious, and with no real intention of sending the
poor baby to the workhouse, had not long turned the corner of the street
before the hall door of the rambling old house was eagerly and nervously
opened, and a funny little quartette issued forth. Dickory did not often
get the air, and she enjoyed herself very much, sitting well up in
Peter'