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Page 26
"I know where _I'm_ going to," said Betty, piling the dolls into her
apron with more haste than care. "I'm going right straight home to tell
Ma all about it. I don't like such actions, and I'm afraid to stay."
"I aint; but I guess it is going to rain, so I shall have to go
anyway," answered Bab, taking advantage of the black clouds rolling up
the sky, for _she_ scorned to own that she was afraid of anything.
Clearing the table in a summary manner by catching up the four corners
of the cloth, Bab put the rattling bundle into her apron, flung her
children on the top, and pronounced herself ready to depart. Betty
lingered an instant to pick up odds and ends that might be spoilt by
the rain, and when she turned from taking the red halter off the
knocker, two lovely pink roses lay on the stone steps.
"Oh, Bab, just see! Here's the very ones we wanted. Wasn't it nice of
the wind to blow 'em down?" she called out, picking them up and running
after her sister, who had strolled moodily along, still looking about
her for her sworn foe, Sally Folsom.
The flowers soothed the feelings of the little girls, because they had
longed for them, and bravely resisted the temptation to climb up the
trellis and help themselves, since their mother had forbidden such
feats, owing to a fall Bab got trying to reach a honeysuckle from the
vine which ran all over the porch.
Home they went and poured out their tale, to Mrs. Moss's great
amusement, for she saw in it only some playmate's prank, and was not
much impressed by the mysterious sneeze and laugh.
"We'll have a grand rummage Monday, and find out what is going on over
there," was all she said.
But Mrs. Moss could not keep her promise, for on Monday it still
rained, and the little girls paddled off to school like a pair of young
ducks, enjoying every puddle they came to, since India rubber boots
made wading a delicious possibility. They took their dinner, and at
noon regaled a crowd of comrades with an account of the mysterious dog,
who appeared to be haunting the neighborhood, as several of the other
children had seen him examining their back yards with interest. He had
begged of them, but to none had he exhibited his accomplishments except
Bab and Betty, and they were therefore much set up, and called him "our
dog" with an air. The cake transaction remained a riddle, for Sally
Folsom solemnly declared that she was playing tag in Mamie Snow's barn
at that identical time. No one had been near the old house but the two
children, and no one could throw any light upon that singular affair.
It produced a great effect, however; for even "teacher" was interested,
and told such amazing tales of a juggler she once saw that doughnuts
were left forgotten in dinner-baskets, and wedges of pie remained
suspended in the air for several minutes at a time, instead of
vanishing with miraculous rapidity as usual. At afternoon recess, which
the girls had first, Bab nearly dislocated every joint of her little
body trying to imitate the poodle's antics. She had practiced on her
bed with great success, but the wood-shed floor was a different thing,
as her knees and elbows soon testified.
"It looked just as easy as anything; I don't see how he did it," she
said, coming down with a bump after vainly attempting to walk on her
hands.
"My gracious, there he is this very minute!" cried Betty, who sat on a
little wood-pile near the door.
There was a general rush, and sixteen small girls gazed out into the
rain as eagerly as if to behold Cinderella's magic coach, instead of
one forlorn dog trotting by through the mud.
"Oh, do call him in and make him dance!" cried the girls, all chirping
at once, till it sounded as if a flock of sparrows had taken possession
of the shed.
"_I_ will call him, he knows _me_," and Bab scrambled up, forgetting
how she had chased the poodle and called him names two days ago.
He evidently had not forgotten, for though he paused and looked
wistfully at them, he would not approach, but stood dripping in the
rain with his frills much bedraggled, while his tasseled tail wagged
slowly, and his pink nose pointed suggestively to the pails and
baskets, nearly empty now.
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