THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE COLONEL, " "TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY, " "BIGBROTHER, " "ASA HOLMES, " "THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY, " "THE LITTLECOLONEL'S HOLIDAYS, " ETC. 

FRONTISPIECE BY ETHELDRED B. BARRY

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY BOSTON PUBLISHERS

_Copyright, 1902_

BY THE PAGE COMPANY

_All rights reserved_

Made in U. S. A. 

 Twenty-seventh Impression, June, 1925 Twenty-eighth Impression, February, 1926 Twenty-ninth Impression, January, 1928 Thirtieth Impression, June, 1929 Thirty-first Impression, October, 1930 Thirty-second Impression, March, 1932 Thirty-third Impression, February, 1934 Thirty-fourth Impression, August, 1935 Thirty-fifth Impression, July, 1937

PRINTED BY THE COLONIAL PRESS INC. , CLINTON, MASS. , U. S. A. 

TO

ALL THE FRIENDS OF THE "LITTLE COLONEL"

TO WHOSE LETTERS

THE AUTHOR COULD NOT REPLY, THIS BOOK IS OFFERED IN ANSWER TO

THEIR MANY QUESTIONS

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S

(Trade Mark)

HERO

THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS

=by

Annie Fellows Johnston=

Limited popular editions, each, cloth 12 mo. Illustrated

=Three Titles--=

 The Little Colonel's House Party $1. 00 The Little Colonel's Holidays $1. 00 The Little Colonel's Hero $1. 00

 * * * * *

Regular Trade Edition

=The Little Colonel Series=

(Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of. )

Each one vol. , large 12 mo, bound in rose silk cloth; illust. 

 The Little Colonel Stories $2. 00

 (Containing the three stories, "The Little Colonel, " "The Giant Scissors, " and "Two Little Knights of Kentucky. ")

 The Little Colonel Stories--Second Series $2. 00

 (Containing the three stories, "The Three Tremonts, " "The Little Colonel in Switzerland, " and "Ole Mammy's Torment. ")

 The Little Colonel's House Party $2. 00 The Little Colonel's Holidays 2. 00 The Little Colonel's Hero 2. 00 The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 2. 00 The Little Colonel in Arizona 2. 00 The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation 2. 00 The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor 2. 00 The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding 2. 00 The Little Colonel's Chum: Mary Ware 2. 00 Mary Ware in Texas 2. 00 Mary Ware's Promised Land 2. 00 The above 13 vols. , boxed, as a set 26. 00

[Illustration: "'SPIN, WHEEL, REEL OUT THY GOLDEN THREAD'"]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

 I. HER TWELFTH BIRTHDAY 11

 II. THE WONDER-BALL BEGINS TO UNWIND 25

 III. LLOYD MEETS HERO 41

 IV. HERO'S STORY 55

 V. THE RED CROSS OF GENEVA 67

 VI. THE WONDER-BALL'S BEST GIFT 79

 VII. IN TOURS 102

VIII. WITH BETTY AND EUGENIA 121

 IX. AT THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS 136

 X. ON THE WING 147

 XI. HOMEWARD BOUND 161

 XII. HOME AGAIN 179

XIII. "THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS WINSOME" 197

 XIV. IN CAMP 234

 XV. THE SENTRY'S MISTAKE 249

 XVI. "TAPS" 262

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO

(Trade Mark)

CHAPTER I. 

HER TWELFTH BIRTHDAY

"Oh, Tarbaby! _Everybody_ has forgotten that it is my birthday! Even PapaJack has gone off to town without saying a word about it, and he nevah didsuch a thing befo' in all his life!"

As she spoke, the Little Colonel put her arm around her pony's neck, andfor a moment her fair little head was pressed disconsolately against itsvelvety black mane. 

"It isn't the presents I care about, " she whispered, choking back aheart-broken sob; "but oh, Tarbaby, it's the bein' forgotten! Of co'semothah couldn't be expected to remembah, she's been so ill. But I thinkgrandfathah might, or Mom Beck, or _somebody_. If there'd only been onesingle person when I came down-stairs this mawnin' to say 'I wish youmany happy returns, Lloyd, deah, ' I wouldn't feel so bad. But therewasn't, and I nevah felt so misah'ble and lonesome and left out since Iwas bawn. "

Tarbaby had no words with which to comfort his little mistress, but heseemed to understand that she was in trouble, and rubbed his nose lovinglyagainst her shoulder. The mute caress comforted her as much as words couldhave done, and presently she climbed into the saddle and started slowlydown the avenue to the gate. 

It was a warm May morning, sweet with the fragrance of the locusts, forthe great trees arching above her were all abloom, and the ground beneathwas snowy with the wind-blown petals. Under the long white arch she rode, with the fallen blossoms white at her feet. The pewees called from thecedars and the fat red-breasted robins ran across the lawn just as theyhad done the spring before, when it was her eleventh birthday, and she hadridden along that same way singing, the happiest hearted child in theValley. But she was not singing to-day. Another sob came up in her throatas she thought of the difference. 

"Now I'm a whole yeah oldah, " she sighed. "Oh, deah! I don't want to growup, one bit, and I'll be suah 'nuff old on my next birthday, for I'll bein my teens then. I wondah how that will feel. This last yeah was such alovely one, for it brought the house pahty and so many holidays. But thisyeah has begun all wrong. I can't help feelin' that it's goin' to bring melots of trouble. "

Half-way down the avenue she thought she heard some one calling her, andstopped to look back. But no one was in sight. The shutters were closed inher mother's room. 

"Last yeah she stood at the window and waved to me when I rode away, "sighed the child, her eyes filling with tears again. "Now she's so whiteand ill it makes me cry to look at her. Maybe that is the trouble thisyeah is goin' to bring me. Betty's mothah died, and Eugenia's, andmaybe"--but the thought was too dreadful to put into words, and shestopped abruptly. 

"Mom Beck was right, " she whispered with a nod of her head. "She said thatsad thoughts are like crows. They come in flocks. I wish I could stopthinkin' about such mou'nful things. "

A train passed as she cantered through the gate and started down the roadbeside the railroad track. She drew rein to watch it thunder by. Somechild at the window pointed a finger at her, and then two smiling littlefaces were pressed against the pane for an eager glimpse. It was theprettiest wayside picture the passengers had seen in all that morning'stravel--the Little Colonel on her pony, with the spray of locust bloom inthe cockade of the Napoleon cap she wore, and a plume of the same gracefulblossoms nodding jauntily over each of Tarbaby's black ears. 

As the admiring faces whirled past her, Lloyd drew a long breath ofrelief. "I'm glad that I don't have to do my riding in a smoky old carthis May mawnin', " she thought. "It is wicked for me to be so unhappy whenI have Tarbaby and all the othah things that mothah and Papa Jack havegiven me. I know perfectly well that they love me just the same even ifthey have forgotten my birthday, and I won't let such old black crowthoughts flock down on me. I'll ride fast and get away from them. "

That was harder to do than she had imagined, for as she passed JudgeMoore's place the deserted house added to her feeling of loneliness. Andy, the old gardener, was cutting the grass on the front lawn. She called tohim. 

"When is the family coming out from town, Andy?"

"Not this summer, Miss Lloyd, " he answered. "It'll be the first summer intwenty years that the Judge has missed. He has taken a cottage at theseaside, and they're all going there. The house will stay closed, just asyou see it now, I reckon, for another year. "

"At the seashore!" she echoed. "Not coming out!" She almost gasped, thenews was so unexpected. Here was another disappointment, and a very soreone. Every summer, as far back as she could remember, Rob Moore had beenher favourite playfellow. Now there would be no more mad Tam O'Shanterraces, with Rob clattering along beside her on his big iron-gray horse. Nomore good times with the best and jolliest of little neighbours. A summerwithout Rob's cheery whistle and good-natured laugh would seem as emptyand queer as the woods without the bird voices, or the meadows without thewhirr of humming things. She rode slowly on. 

There was no letter for her when she stopped at the post-office to inquirefor the mail. The girls on whom she called afterward were not at home, soshe rode aimlessly around the Valley until nearly lunch-time, wishing foronce that it were a school-day. It was the longest Saturday morning shehad ever known. She could not practise her music lesson for fear of makingher mother's headache worse. She could not go near the kitchen, where shemight have found entertainment, for Aunt Cindy was in one of her blacktempers, and scolded shrilly as she moved around among her shining tins. 

There was no one to show her how to begin her new piece of embroidery;Papa Jack had forgotten to bring out the magazines she wanted to see;Walker had failed to roll the tennis-court and put up the net, so shecould not even practise serving the balls by herself. 

When lunch-time came, it was so lonely eating by herself in the bigdining-room, that she hurried through the meal as quickly as possible, andtiptoed up the stairs to the door of her mother's room. Mom Beck raisedher finger with a warning "Sh!" and seeing that her mother was stillasleep, Lloyd stole away to her own room, her own pretty pink and whitenest, and curled herself up among the cushions in a big easy chair by thewindow. 

It was the first time in her memory that her mother had been ill. For morethan a week she had not been able to leave her room, and the lonely child, accustomed to being with her constantly, crept around the house like alittle stray kitten. The place scarcely seemed like home, and the dayswere endless. Some unusual feeling of sensitiveness had kept her fromreminding the family of her birthday. Other years she had openly countedthe days, for weeks beforehand, and announced the gifts that she would bemost pleased to receive. 

Here by the window the dismal crow thoughts began flocking down to heragain, and to drive them away she picked up a book from the table andbegan to read. It was a green and gold volume of short stories, one thatshe had read many times before, but she never grew tired of them. 

The one she liked best was "Marguerite's Wonder-ball, " and she turned tothat first, because it was the story of a happy birthday. Marguerite was alittle German girl, learning to knit, and to help her in her task herfamily wound for her a mammoth ball of yarn, as full of surprise packagesas a plum cake is of plums. Day by day, as her patient knitting unwound theyarn, some gift dropped out into her lap. They were simple things, nearlyall of them. A knife, a ribbon, a thimble, a pencil, and here and therea bonbon, but they were magnified by the charm of the surprise, and theyturned the tedious task into a pleasant pastime. Not until her birthdaywas the knitting finished, and as she took the last stitches a littlevelvet-covered jewel-box fell out. In the jewel-box was a string of pearlsthat had belonged to Marguerite's great-great-grandmother. It was a preciousfamily heirloom, and although Marguerite could not wear the necklace untilshe was old enough to go to her first great court ball, it made her veryproud and happy to think that, of all the grandchildren in the family, she had been chosen as the one to wear her great-great-grandmother'sname that means pearl, and had inherited on that account the beautifulVon Behren necklace. 

When the knitting was done there was a charming birthday feast in herhonour. They crowned her with flowers, and every one, even the dignifiedold grandfather, did her bidding until nightfall, because it was _her_day, and she was its queen. 

Closing the book Lloyd lay back among the cushions, smiling for thetwentieth time over Marguerite's happiness, and planning the beautifulwonder-ball she herself would like to have, if wonder-balls were to be hadfor the wishing. It should be as big as a cart-wheel, and the first giftto be unwound should be a tiny ring set with an emerald, because that isthe lucky stone for people born in May. She already owned so many books, and trinkets, that she hardly knew what else to wish for unless it mightbe a coral fan chain and a mother-of-pearl manicure set. But deep down inthe heart of the ball she would like to find a wishing-nut, that wouldgrant her wishes like an Aladdin's lamp whenever it was rubbed. 

She must have fallen asleep in the midst of her day-dreaming, for itseemed to her that it was only a minute after she closed her book, thatshe heard the half-past five o'clock train whistling at the station, andwhile she was still rubbing her eyes she saw her father coming up theavenue. 

All day she had had a lingering hope that he might bring her somethingwhen he came out from the city. "If it's nothing but a bag of peanuts, "she thought, "it will be better than having a birthday go by withoutanything, 'specially when all the othahs have been neahly as nice asChristmas. "

She peeped out between the curtains, scanning him eagerly as he cametoward the house, but there was no package in either hand, and nosuggestive parcel bulged from any of his pockets. 

"I'll not be a baby, " Lloyd whispered to herself, winking her eyelidsrapidly to clear away a sort of mist that seemed to blur the landscape. "I'm too old to care so much. "

Still, it was such a disappointment, added to all the others that the dayhad brought, that she buried her face in the cushions and cried softly. She could hear her father's voice in the next room, presently. It seemedquite loud and cheerful; more cheerful than it had sounded since hermother's dreadful neuralgic headaches had begun. A few minutes later sheheard her mother laugh. It was such a welcome sound, that she hastilydried her eyes and started to run in to see what had caused it, but shepaused as she passed the mirror. Her eyes were so red that she knew shewould be questioned, and she concluded it would be better to wait untilshe was dressed for dinner. 

So she sat looking out of the window till the big hall clock struck six, and then hastily bathing her eyes, she slipped into a fresh white dress, and looking carefully at herself in the mirror, concluded that she hadwaited long enough. To her surprise, she found her mother sitting up in abig Morris chair by the window. Maybe it was the pink silk kimono she worethat brought a faint tinge of colour to her cheeks, but whatever it was, she looked well and natural again, and for the first time in six long daysthe neuralgic headache was all gone, and the lines of suffering weresmoothed out of her face. 

The wide glass doors opening on to the balcony were standing open, andthrough the vines stole the golden sunset light, the chirping of robins, the smell of new-mown grass, and the heavy sweetness of the locustblooms. Lloyd rubbed her eyes, thinking she surely must be dreaming. Thereon the vine-covered balcony stood a table all set as if for a "pinkparty. " There were flowers and bonbons in the silver dishes, and in thecentre Mom Beck was proudly placing a mammoth birthday cake, wreathed inpink icing roses, and crowned with twelve pink candles ready for thelighting. 

"Oh, mothah!" she cried. "I--I thought--"

She did not finish the sentence, but something in her surprised tone, thesudden flushing of her face, and the traces of tears still in her eyes, told what she meant. 

"You thought mother had forgotten, " whispered Mrs. Sherman, tenderly, asLloyd hid her face on her shoulder. 

"No, not for one minute, dear. But the pain was so bad this morning, whenyou came to my room, that I couldn't talk. Then you were out riding solong this morning, and when I wakened after lunch and sent Mom Beck tofind you, she said you were asleep in your room. Papa Jack and I have beenplanning a great surprise for you, and he did not want to mention it untilall the arrangements were completed. That is why there was no birthdaysurprise for you at breakfast. But you'll soon be a very happy littlegirl, for this surprise is something you have been wanting for more than ayear. "

How suddenly the whole world had changed for the Little Colonel! Thesunshine had never seemed so golden, the locust blooms so deliciouslysweet. Her birthday had not been forgotten, after all. Mrs. Sherman'schair was wheeled to the table on the balcony, and Lloyd took her seatwith sparkling eyes. She wondered what the surprise could be, and feltsure that Papa Jack would not tell her until the cake was cut, and thelast birthday wish made with the blowing of the birthday candles. 

He had intended to save his news to serve with the dessert, but when hequestioned Lloyd as to how she had spent the day, and laughed at her forreading the old tale of Marguerite's wonder-ball so many times, his secretescaped him before he knew it. Turning to Mrs. Sherman he said, "By theway, Elizabeth, our birthday gift for Lloyd might be called a sort ofwonder-ball. " Then he looked at his little daughter with a teasing smile, as he continued, "I wonder if you can guess my riddle. At first yourwonder-ball will unroll a day and night on the cars, then a drive througha park where you rode in a baby-carriage once upon a time, but throughwhich you shall go in an automobile this time, if you wish. There'll besome shopping, maybe, and after that flags flying, and bands playing, andcrowds of people waving good-bye. "

He had intended to stop there, but the wondering expression on her facecarried him on further. "I can't undertake to say how much yourwonder-ball can hold, but somewhere near the centre of it will be ameeting with Betty and Eugenia, and perhaps a glimpse of the Gate of theGiant Scissors that you are always talking about. "

As Lloyd listened a look of utter astonishment crept over her face. Thenshe suddenly sprang from her chair, and running to her father put a handon each shoulder. "Papa Jack, " she cried, breathlessly, "look me straightin the eyes! Are you in earnest? You don't mean that we are going abroad, do you? It _couldn't_ be anything so lovely as that, could it?"

For answer he drew an envelope from his pocket and shook it before hereyes. "Look for yourself, " he said. "This is to show that we are listedfor passage on a steamer going to Antwerp the first of June. You may beginto pack your trunk next week, if you wish. "

It was impossible for Lloyd to eat any more after that. She was tooexcited and happy, and there were countless questions she wanted to ask. "It's bettah than a hundred house pahties, " she exclaimed, as she blew outthe last birthday candle. "It's the loveliest wondah-ball that evah was, and I'm suah that nobody in all Kentucky is as happy as I am now. "

CHAPTER II. 

THE WONDER-BALL BEGINS TO UNWIND

Lloyd's wonder-ball began to unroll the morning that her father took herto town to choose her own steamer trunk, and some of the things that wereto go in it. She packed and unpacked it many times in the two weeks thatfollowed, although she knew that Mom Beck would do the final packing, andprobably take out half the things which she insisted upon crowding intoit. 

Every morning it was a fresh delight to waken and find it standing by herdressing-table, reminding her of the journey they would soon begintogether, and, when the journey was actually begun, she settled back inher seat with a happy sigh. 

"Now, I'll commence to count my packages as they fall out, " she said. "Ithink I ought to count what I see from the car windows as one, for I enjoylooking out at the different places we pass moah than I evah enjoyed mybiggest pictuah books. "

"Then count this number two, " said her father, putting a flat, squareparcel in her lap. Lloyd looked puzzled as she opened it. There was only ablank book inside, bound in Russia leather, with the word "Record" stampedon it in gilt. 

"I thought it would be a good idea to keep a partnership diary, " he said. "We can take turns in writing in it, and some day, when you are grown, andyour mother and I are old and gray, it will help us to remember much ofthe journey that otherwise might pass out of our memories. So many thingshappen when one is travelling, that they are apt to crowd each other outof mind unless a record is kept of them. "

"We'll begin as soon as we get on the ship, " said Lloyd. "Mothah shallwrite first, then you, and then I. And let's put photographs in it, too, as Mrs. Walton did in hers. It will be like writing a real book. Packagenumbah two is lovely, Papa Jack. "

It happened that Mr. Sherman was the only one who made an entry in therecord for more than a week. Mrs. Sherman felt the motion of the vesseltoo much to be able to do more than lie out on deck in her steamer-chair. The Little Colonel, while she was not at all seasick, was afraid toattempt writing until she reached land. 

"The table jiggles so!" she complained, when she sat down at a desk in theship's library. "I'm afraid that I'll spoil the page. You write it, PapaJack. " She put back the pen, and stood at his elbow while he wrote. 

"Put down about all the steamah lettahs that we got, " she suggested, "andthe little Japanese stove Allison Walton sent me for my muff, and thebooks Rob sent. Oh, yes! And the captain's name and how long the ship is, and how many tons of things to eat they have on board. Mom Beck won'tbelieve me when I tell her, unless I can show it to her in black andwhite. "

After they had explored the vessel together, her father was ready tosettle down in his deck-chair in a sheltered corner, and read aloud orsleep. But the Little Colonel grew tired of being wrapped like a mummy inher steamer rug. She did not care to read long at a time, and she grewtired of looking at nothing but water. Soon she began walking up and downthe deck, looking for something to entertain her. In one place some littlegirls were busy with scissors and paint-boxes, making paper dolls. Fartheralong two boys were playing checkers, and, under the stairs, a group ofchildren, gathered around their governess, were listening to a fairy tale. Lloyd longed to join them, for she fairly ached for some amusement. Shepaused an instant, with her hand on the rail, as she heard one sentence:"And the white prince, clasping the crystal ball, waved his plumed cap tothe gnome, and vanished. "

Wondering what the story was about, Lloyd walked around to the other sideof the deck, only to find another long uninteresting row of sleepy figuresstretched out in steamer-chairs, and half hidden in rugs and cloaks. Sheturned to go back, but paused as she caught sight of a girl, about her ownage, standing against the deck railing, looking over into the sea. She wasnot a pretty girl. Her face was too dark and thin, according to Lloyd'sstandard of beauty, and her mouth looked as if it were used to sayingdisagreeable things. 

But Lloyd thought her interesting, and admired the scarlet jacket shewore, with its gilt braid and buttons, and the scarlet cap that made herlong plaits of hair look black as a crow's wing by contrast. Her hair waspretty, and hung far below her waist, tied at the end with two bows ofscarlet ribbon. 

The girl glanced up as Lloyd passed, and although there was a cool starein her queer black eyes, Lloyd found herself greatly interested. Shewanted to make the stranger's acquaintance, and passed back and forthseveral times, to steal another side glance at her. As she turned for thethird time to retrace her steps, she was nearly knocked off her feet bytwo noisy boys, who bumped against her. They were playing horse, to theannoyance of all the passengers on deck, stepping on people's toes, knocking over chairs, and stumbling against the stewards who were hurryingalong with their heavy trays of beef tea and lemonade. 

Lloyd had seen the boys several times before. They were little fellows ofsix and nine, with unusually thin legs and shrill voices, and were alwayseating. 

Every time a deck steward passed, they grabbed a share of whatever hecarried. They seemed to have discovered some secret passage to the ship'ssupplies. Their blouses were pouched out all around with the store ofgingersnaps, nuts, and apples which they had managed to stow away as areserve fund. Lloyd had seen the larger boy draw out six bananas, oneafter another, from his blouse, and then squirm and wriggle and almoststand on his head to reach the seventh, which had slipped around to hisback while he was eating the others. They were munching raisins now, asthey ran. 

After their collision with Lloyd they stopped running, and suddenly begancalling, "Here, Fido! Here, Fido!" Lloyd looked around eagerly, expectingto see some pet dog, and wishing that she had one of the many pet animalsleft behind at Locust, to amuse her now. But no dog was in sight. The girlin the scarlet jacket turned around with an angry scowl. 

"Stop calling me that, Howl Sattawhite!" she exclaimed, crossly. "I'lltell mamma. You know what she said she'd do to you if you called meanything but Fidelia. "

"And you know what she said she'd do to you if you kept calling me Howl, "shouted the larger of the boys, making a saucy face and darting forward togive one of her long plaits of hair a sudden pull. 

Quick as a flash, Fidelia turned, and catching him by the wrists, twistedthem till he began to whimper with pain, and tried to set his teeth in herhand. 

"You _dare_ bite me, you little beast!" she cried. "You just dare, andI'll tell mamma how you spit at the waiter the morning we left the hotel. "

Lloyd was scandalised. They were quarrelling like two little dogs, seemingly unconscious of the fact that a hundred people were withinhearing. As Fidelia seemed to be getting the upper hand, the littlebrother joined in, calling in a high piping voice, "And if you squeal onHowell, Fidelia Sattawhite, I'll tell mamma how you went out walking byyourself in New York when she told you not to, and took her new purse andlost it! So there, Miss Smarty!"

"Oh, those dreadful American children!" said an English woman near Lloyd. "They're all alike. At least the ones who travel. I have never seen anyyet that had any manners. They are all pert and spoiled. Fancy an Englishchild, now, making such a scene in public!"

The Little Colonel could feel her face growing painfully red. She wasindignant at being classed with such rude children, and walked quicklyaway. At the cabin door she met a maid, who, coming out on deck withsomething wrapped carefully in an embroidered shawl, sat down on one ofthe empty benches. 

Scarcely was she seated when the two boys pounced down upon her and beganpulling at the blanket. "Oh, let me see Beauty, Fanchette, " begged Howell. "Make him sit up and do some tricks. "

The maid pushed them away with a strong hand, and then carefully drewaside a corner of the covering. Lloyd gave an exclamation of pleasure, forthe head that popped out was that of a bright little French poodle. Shehad thought many times that morning of the two Bobs, and good old Fritz, dead and gone, of Boots, the hunting-dog, and the goat and the gobblerand the parrot, --all the animals she had loved and played with at Locust, wishing she had them with her. Now as she saw the bright eyes of thepoodle peeping over the blanket, she forgot that she was a stranger, andrunning across the deck, she stooped down beside it. 

"Oh, the darling little dog!" she exclaimed, touching the silky hairsoftly. "May I hold him for a minute?"

The maid smiled, but shook her head. "Ah, that the madame will not allow, "she said. 

"It cost a thousand dollars, " explained Howell, eagerly, "and mamma thinksmore of it than she does of us. Doesn't she, Henny?"

The small boy nodded with a finger in his mouth. 

"Show her Beauty's bracelet, Fanchette, " said Howell. Turning back anotherfold of the blanket, the maid lifted a little white paw, on which sparkleda tiny diamond bracelet. Lloyd drew a long breath of astonishment. "Someof its teeth are filled with gold, " continued Howell. "We had to stay awhole week in New York while Beauty was in the dog hospital, having themfilled. They could only do a little at a time. One of his tricks is tolaugh so that he shows all his fillings. Laugh, Beauty!" he commanded. "Laugh, old fellow, and show your gold teeth!"

He shook a dirty finger in the poodle's face, and it obediently stretchedits mouth, to show all its little gold-filled teeth. 

"See!" exclaimed Howell, much pleased. "Do it again!"

But the maid interfered. "Your mother told you not to touch Beauty again. You'd have the poor little thing's mouth stretched till it had theface-ache, if you weren't watched all the time. Go away! You are a naughtyboy!"

Howell's lips shot out in a sullen pout, and the maid, not knowing what hemight do next, rose with the poodle in her arms and walked to the otherside of the vessel. 

"Wish't the little beast was dead!" he muttered. "I get scolded andpunished for nothing at all whenever it is around. It and Fidelia! Ihaven't any use for girls and puppy-dogs!"

After this uncivil remark he waited for the angry retort which he thoughtwould naturally follow, but to his surprise Lloyd only laughedgood-naturedly. She found him amusing, even if he was rude and cross, andshe could not wonder that he had such an opinion of girls, afterwitnessing his quarrel with Fidelia. The boys had begun it, but she wasolder and could have turned it aside had she wished. And she thought itperfectly natural that he should dislike the dog if he thought his motherpreferred its comfort to his. 

"You'd like dogs if you could have one like my old Fritz, " began Lloyd, glad of some one to talk to. Sitting down on the bench that the maid hadleft, she began talking of him and the pony and the other pets at Locust, At first the boys listened carelessly. Howell cracked his whip, andHenderson slapped his feet with the ends of the reins he wore. They werenot used to having stories told them, except when they were being scolded, and their mother or the maid told them tales of what happens to bad littleboys when they will not obey. Although Lloyd's wild ride in a hand-carwith one of the two little knights began thrillingly, they listened withone foot out, ready to run at first word of the moral lecture which theythought would surely come at the end. 

The poodle had a maid to make it happy and comfortable, every moment ofits pampered little life. The boys had some one to see that they wereproperly clothed and fed, and their nursery at home looked as if a toystore had been emptied into it. But no one took any interest in theiramusement. When they asked questions the answer always was, "Oh, run alongand don't bother me now. " There were no quiet bedtime talks for them tosmooth the snarls out of the day. Their mother was always dining out orreceiving company at that time, and their nurse hurried them to sleep withthreats of the bugaboos under the bed that would catch them if they werenot still. They suspected that the Little Colonel's stories would soonlead to a lecture on quarrelling. 

Presently they forgot their fears in the interest of the tale. Theyoungest boy sidled a little nearer and climbed up on the end of the benchbeside her. Then Howell, dragging his whip behind him, came a step closer, then another, till he too was on the bench beside her. 

She had never had such a flattering audience. They never took their eyesfrom her face, and listened with such breathless attention that she talkedon and on, wondering how long she could hold their interest. 

"They listen to me just as people do to Betty, " she thought, proudly. Anhour went by, and half of another, and the bugle blew the firstdinner-call. 

"Go on, " demanded Howell, edging closer. "We ain't hungry. Are we, Henny?"

"But I must go and get ready for dinner, " said Lloyd, rising. 

"Will you tell us some more to-morrow?" begged Howell, holding her skirtswith his dirty little hand. 

"Yes, yes, " promised Lloyd, laughing and breaking loose from his hold. "I'll tell you as many stories as you want. "

It was a rash promise, for next day, no sooner had she finished breakfastand started to take her morning walk around the deck with her father, thanthe boys were at her heels. They were eating bananas as they staggeredalong, and as fast as one disappeared another was dragged out of theirblouses, which seemed pouched out all around their waists with aninexhaustible supply. Up and down they followed her, until Papa Jack beganto laugh, and ask what she had done to tame the little savages. 

As soon as she stopped at her chair they dropped down on the floor, tailor-fashion, waiting for her to begin. Their devotion amused her atfirst, and gratified her later, when the English woman who had complainedof their manners stopped to speak to her. 

"You are a real little 'good Samaritan, '" she said, "to keep those twonuisances quiet. The passengers owe you a vote of thanks. It is very sweetof you, my dear, to sacrifice yourself for others in that way. "

Lloyd grew very red. She had not looked upon it as a sacrifice. She hadbeen amusing herself. But after awhile story-telling did become verytiresome as a steady occupation. She groaned whenever she saw the boyscoming toward her. 

Fidelia joined them on several occasions, but her appearance was alwaysthe signal for a quarrel to begin. Not until one morning when the boyswere locked in their stateroom for punishment, did she have a chance tospeak to Lloyd by herself. 

"The boys opened a port-hole this morning, " explained Fidelia. "They hadbeen forbidden to touch it. Poor Beauty was asleep on the couch just underit, and a big wave sloshed over him and nearly drowned him. He was soakedthrough. It gave him a chill, and mamma is in a terrible way about him. Howl and Henny told Fanchette they wanted him to drown. That's why theydid it. They will be locked up all morning. I should think that you'd beglad. I don't see how you stand them tagging after you all the time. Theyare the meanest boys I ever knew. "

"They are not mean to me, " said Lloyd. "I can't help feelin' sorry forthem. " Then she stopped abruptly, with a blush, feeling that was not apolite thing to say to the boys' sister. 

"I'm sure I don't see why you should feel sorry for them, " said Fidelia, angrily. At which the Little Colonel was more embarrassed than ever. Shecould not tell Fidelia that it was because a little poodle received thefondling and attention that belonged to them, and that it was Fidelia'scontinual faultfinding and nagging that made the boys tease her. So aftera pause she changed the subject by asking her what she wanted most to seein Europe. 

"Nothing!" answered Fidelia. "I wouldn't give a penny to see all the oldruins and cathedrals and picture galleries in the world. The only reasonthat I care to go abroad is to be able to say I have been to those placeswhen the other girls brag about what they've seen. What do you want tosee?"

"Oh, thousands of things!" exclaimed Lloyd. "There are the châteaux wherekings and queens have lived, and the places that are in the old songs, like Bonnie Doon, and London Bridge, and Twickenham Ferry. I want to seeDenmark, because Hans Christian Andersen lived there, and wrote his fairytales, and London, because Dickens and Little Nell lived there. But Ithink I shall enjoy Switzerland most. We expect to stay there a long time. It is such a brave little country. Papa has told me a great deal aboutits heroes. He is going to take me to see the Lion of Lucerne, and toAltdorf, under the lime-tree, where William Tell shot the apple. I lovethat story. "

"Well, aren't you _queer!_" exclaimed Fidelia, opening her eyes wide andlooking at Lloyd as if she were some sort of a freak. It was her tone andlook that were offensive, more than her words. Lloyd was furious. 

"No, I am _not_ queah, Miss Sattawhite!" she exclaimed, moving away muchruffled. As she flounced toward the cabin, her eyes very bright and hercheeks very red, she looked back with an indignant glance. "I wish nowthat I'd told her why I'm sorry for Howl and Henny. I'd be sorry foranybody that had such a rude sistah!"

But there were other children on the vessel whose acquaintance Lloyd madebefore the week was over. She played checkers and quoits with the boys, and paper dolls with the girls, and one sunny morning she was invited tojoin the group under the stairs, where she heard the story of the whiteprince from beginning to end, and found out why he vanished. 

Those were happy days on the big steamer, despite the fact that Howl andHenny haunted her like two hungry little shadows. Sometimes the captainhimself came down and walked with her. The Shermans sat at his table, andhe had grown quite fond of the little Kentucky girl with her soft Southernaccent. As they paced the deck hand in hand, he told her marvellous talesof the sea, till she grew to love the ship and the heaving water worldaround them, and wished that they might sail on and on, and never come toland until the end of the summer. 

CHAPTER III. 

LLOYD MEETS HERO

It was July when they reached Switzerland. After three weeks of constanttravel, it seemed good to leave boats and railroads for awhile, and stopto rest in the clean old town of Geneva. The windows of the big hoteldining-room looked out on the lake, and the Little Colonel, sitting atbreakfast the morning after their arrival, could scarcely eat for watchingthe scene outside. 

Gay little pleasure boats flashed back and forth on the sparkling water. The quay and bridge were thronged with people. From open windows down thestreet came the tinkle of pianos, and out on the pier, where a party oftourists were crowding on to one of the excursion steamers, a band wasplaying its merriest holiday music. 

Far away in the distance she could see the shining snow crown of MontBlanc, and it gave her an odd feeling, as if she were living in ageography lesson, to know that she was bounded on one side by the famousAlpine mountain, and on the other by the River Rhône, whose source she hadoften traced on the map. The sunshine, the music, and the gay crowds madeit seem to Lloyd as if the whole world were out for a holiday, and she ateher melon and listened to the plans for the day with the sensation thatsomething very delightful was about to happen. 

"We'll go shopping this morning, " said Mrs. Sherman. "I want Lloyd to seesome of those wonderful music boxes they make here; the dancing bears, andthe musical hand-mirrors; the chairs that play when you sit down in them, and the beer-mugs that begin a tune when you lift them up. "

Lloyd's face dimpled with pleasure, and she began to ask eager questions. "Couldn't we take one to Mom Beck, mothah? A lookin'-glass that would play'Kingdom Comin', when she picked it up? It would surprise her so she wouldthink it was bewitched, and she'd shriek the way she does when acattapillah gets on her. "

Lloyd laughed so heartily at the recollection, that an old gentlemansitting at an opposite table smiled in sympathy. He had been watching thechild ever since she came into the dining-room, interested in every lookand gesture. He was a dignified old French soldier, tall andbroad-shouldered, with gray hair and a fierce-looking gray moustachedrooping heavily over his mouth. But the eyes under his shaggy brows wereso kind and gentle that the shyest child or the sorriest waif of a straydog would claim him for a friend at first glance. 

The Little Colonel was so busy watching the scene from the window that shedid not see him until he had finished his breakfast and rose from thetable. As he came toward them on his way to the door, she whispered, "Look, mothah! He has only one arm, like grandfathah. I wondah if he was asoldiah, too. Why is he bowing to Papa Jack?"

"I met him last night in the office, " explained her father, when the oldgentleman had passed out of hearing. "We got into conversation over thedog he had with him--a magnificent St. Bernard, that had been trained as awar dog, to go out with the ambulances to hunt for dead and woundedsoldiers. Major Pierre de Vaux is the old man's name. He served many yearsin the French army, but was retired after the siege of Strasburg. Theclerk told me that it was there that the Major lost his arm, and receivedhis country's medal for some act of bravery. He is well known here inGeneva, where he comes every summer for a few weeks. "

"Oh, I hope I'll see the war dog!" cried the Little Colonel. "What do yousuppose his name is?"

The waiter, who was changing their plates, could not resist thistemptation to show off the little English he knew. "Hes name is _Hero_, mademoiselle, " he answered. "He vair smart dog. He know _evair_ singsomebody say to him, same as a person. "

"You'll probably see him as we go out to the carriage, " said Mr. Sherman. "He follows the Major constantly. "

As soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Sherman went up to her room for herhat. Lloyd, who had worn hers down to breakfast, wandered out into thehall to wait for her. There was a tall, carved chair standing near theelevator, and Lloyd climbed into it. To her great confusion, somethinginside of it gave a loud click as she seated herself, and began to play. It played so loudly that Lloyd was both startled and embarrassed. Itseemed to her that every one in the hotel must hear the noise, and knowthat she had started it. 

"Silly old thing!" she muttered, as with a very red face she slipped downand walked hurriedly away. She intended to go into the reading-room, butin her confusion turned to the left instead of the right, and ran againstsome one coming out of the hotel office. It was the Major. 

"Oh, I beg your pahdon!" she cried, blushing still more. From the twinklein his eye she was sure that he had witnessed her mortifying encounterwith the musical chair. But his first words made her forget herembarrassment. He spoke in the best of English, but with a slight accentthat Lloyd thought very odd and charming. 

"Ah, it is Mr. Sherman's little daughter. He told me last night that youhad come to Switzerland because it was a land of heroes, and he was surethat you would be especially interested in mine. So come, Hero, my bravefellow, and be presented to the little American lady. Give her your paw, sir!"

He stepped aside to let the great creature past him, and Lloyd uttered anexclamation of delight, he was so unusually large and beautiful. His curlycoat of tawny yellow was as soft as silk, and a great ruff of whitecircled his neck like a collar. His breast was white, too, and his paws, and his eyes had a wistful, human look that went straight to Lloyd'sheart. She shook the offered paw, and then impulsively threw her armsaround his neck, exclaiming, "Oh, you deah old fellow! I can't helplovin' you. You're the beautifulest dog I evah saw!"

He understood the caress, if not the words, for he reached up to touch hercheek with his tongue, and wagged his tail as if he were welcoming along-lost friend. Just then Mrs. Sherman stepped out of the elevator. "Good-bye, Hero, " said the Little Colonel. "I must go now, but I hope I'llsee you when I come back. " Nodding good-bye to the Major, she followed hermother out to the street, where her father stood waiting beside an opencarriage. 

Lloyd enjoyed the drive that morning as they spun along beside the river, up and down the strange streets with the queer foreign signs over the shopdoors. Once, as they drove along the quay, they met the Major and the dog, and in response to a courtly bow, the Little Colonel waved her hand andsmiled. The empty sleeve recalled her grandfather, and gave her a friendlyfeeling for the old soldier. She looked back at Hero as long as she couldsee a glimpse of his white and yellow curls. 

It was nearly noon when they stopped at a place where Mrs. Sherman wantedto leave an enamelled belt-buckle to be repaired. Lloyd was not interestedin the show-cases, and could not understand the conversation her fatherand mother were having with the shopkeeper about enamelling. So, sayingthat she would go out and sit in the carriage until they were ready tocome, she slipped away. 

She liked to watch the stir of the streets. It was interesting to guesswhat the foreign signs meant, and to listen to the strange speech aroundher. Besides, there was a band playing somewhere down the street, andchildren were tugging at their nurses' hands to hurry them along. Somecarried dolls dressed in the quaint costumes of Swiss peasants, and somehad balloons. A man with a bunch of them like a cluster of great redbubbles, had just sold out on the corner. 

So she sat in the sunshine, looking around her with eager, interestedeyes. The coachman, high up on his box, seemed as interested as herself;at least, he sat up very straight and stiff. But it was only his back thatLloyd saw. He had been at a fête the night before. There seems to bealways a holiday in Geneva. He had stayed long at the merrymaking and hadtaken many mugs of beer. They made him drowsy and stupid. The Americangentleman and his wife stayed long in the enameller's shop. He couldscarcely keep his eyes open. Presently, although he never moved a muscleof his back and sat up stiff and straight as a poker, he was soundasleep, and the reins in his grasp slipped lower and lower and lower. 

The horse was an old one, stiffened and jaded by much hard travel, but ithad been a mettlesome one in its younger days, with the recollection ofmany exciting adventures. Now, although it seemed half asleep, dreaming, maybe, of the many jaunts it had taken with other American tourists, orwondering if it were not time for it to have its noonday nose-bag, it wasreally keeping one eye open, nervously watching some painters on thesidewalk. They were putting up a scaffold against a building, in orderthat they might paint the cornice. 

Presently the very thing happened that the old horse had been expecting. Aheavy board fell from the scaffold with a crash, knocking over a ladder, which fell into the street in front of the frightened animal. Now the oldhorse had been in several runaways. Once it had been hurt by a fallingladder, and it had never recovered from its fear of one. As this one felljust under it's nose, all the old fright and pain that caused its firstrunaway seemed to come back to its memory. In a frenzy of terror itreared, plunged forward, then suddenly turned and dashed down the street. 

The plunge and sudden turn threw the sleeping coachman from the box tothe street. With the lines dragging at its heels, the frightened horsesped on. The Little Colonel, clutching frantically at the seat in front ofher, screamed at the horse to stop. She had been used to driving eversince she was big enough to grasp the reins, and she felt that if shecould only reach the dragging lines, she could control the horse. But thatwas impossible. All she could do was to cling to the seat as the carriagewhirled dizzily around corners, and wonder how many more frightful turnsit would make before she should be thrown out. 

The white houses on either side seemed racing past them. Nurses ran, screaming, to the pavements, dragging the baby-carriages out of the way. Dogs barked and teams were jerked hastily aside. Some one dashed out of ashop and threw his arms up in front of the horse to stop it, but, veeringto one side, it only plunged on the faster. 

Lloyd's hat blew off. Her face turned white with a sickening dread, andher breath began to come in frightened sobs. On and on they went, and, asthe scenes of a lifetime will be crowded into a moment in the memory of adrowning man, so a thousand things came flashing into Lloyd's mind. Shesaw the locust avenue all white and sweet in blossom time, and thought, with a strange thrill of self-pity, that she would never ride under itswhite arch again. Then she saw Betty's face on the pillow, as she had lainwith bandaged eyes, telling in her tremulous little voice the story of theRoad of the Loving Heart. Queerly enough, with that came the thought ofHowl and Henny, and she had time to be glad that she had amused them onthe voyage, and made them happy. Then came her mother's face, and PapaJack's. In a few moments, she told herself, they would be picking up herpoor, broken, lifeless little body from the street. How horribly theywould feel. And then--she screamed and shut her eyes. The carriage haddashed into something that tore off a wheel. There was a crash--a sound asof splintering wood. But it did not stop their mad flight. With a horriblebumping motion that nearly threw her from the carriage at every jolt, theystill kept on. 

They were on the quay now. The noon sun on the water flashed into her eyeslike the blinding light thrown back from a looking-glass. Then somethingwhite and yellow darted from the crowd on the pavement, and catching thehorse by the bit, swung on heavily. The horse dragged along for a fewpaces, and came to a halt, trembling like a leaf. 

A wild hurrah went up from both sides of the street, and the LittleColonel, as she was lifted out white and trembling, saw that it was a hugeSt. Bernard that the crowd was cheering. 

"Oh, it's H-Hero!" she cried, with chattering teeth. "How did he gethere?" But no one understood her question. The faces she looked into, while beaming with friendly interest, were all foreign. The eagerexclamations on all sides were uttered in a foreign tongue. There was noone to take her home, and in her fright she could not remember the name oftheir hotel. But in the midst of her confusion a hearty sentence inEnglish sounded in her ear, and a strong arm caught her up in a fatherlyembrace. It was the Major who came pushing through the crowd to reach her. Her grandfather himself could not have been more welcome just at thattime, and her tears came fast when she found herself in his friendlyshelter. The shock had been a terrible one. 

"Come, dear child!" he exclaimed, gently, patting her shoulder. "Courage!We are almost at the hotel. See, it is on the corner, there. The fatherand mother will soon be here. "

Wiping her eyes, he led her across the street, explaining as he went howit happened that he and the dog were on the street when she passed. Theyhad been in the gardens all morning and were going home to lunch, whenthey heard the clatter of the runaway far down the street. The Major couldnot see who was in the carriage, only that it appeared to be a child. Hewas too old a man, and with his one arm too helpless to attempt to stopit, but he remembered that Hero had once shared the training of somecollies for police service, before it had been decided to use him as anambulance dog. They were taught to spring at the bridles of escapinghorses. 

"I was doubtful if Hero remembered those early lessons, " said the Major, "but I called out to him sharply, for the love of heaven to stop it if hecould, and that instant he was at the horse's head, hanging on with allhis might. Bravo, old fellow!" he continued, turning to the dog as hespoke. "We are proud of you this day!"

They were in the corridor of the hotel now, and the Little Colonel, kneeling beside Hero and putting her arms around his neck, finished hersobbing with her fair little face laid fondly against his silky coat. 

"Oh, you deah, deah old Hero, " she said. "You saved me, and I'll love youfo' evah and evah!"

The crowd was still in front of the hotel, and the corridor full ofexcited servants and guests, when Mr. And Mrs. Sherman hurried in. Theyhad taken the first carriage they could hail and driven as fast aspossible in the wake of the runaway. Mrs. Sherman was trembling soviolently that she could scarcely stand, when they reached the hotel. Theclerk who ran out to assure them of the Little Colonel's safety was loudin his praises of the faithful St. Bernard. 

Hero had known many masters. Any one in the uniform of the army had oncehad authority over him. He had been taught to obey many voices. Many handshad fed and fondled him, but no hand had ever lain quite so tenderly onhis head, as the Little Colonel's. No one had ever looked into his eyes sogratefully as she, and no voice had ever thrilled him with as loving tonesas hers, as she knelt there beside him, calling him all the fond endearingnames she knew. He understood far better than if he had been human, thatshe loved him. Eagerly licking her hands and wagging his tail, he told heras plainly as a dog can talk that henceforth he would be one of her bestand most faithful of friends. 

If petting and praise and devoted attention could spoil a dog, Hero's headwould certainly have been turned that day, for friends and strangers alikemade much of him. A photographer came to take his picture for the leadingdaily paper. Before nightfall his story was repeated in every home inGeneva. No servant in the hotel but took a personal pride in him orwatched his chance to give him a sly sweetmeat or a caress. But being adog instead of a human, the attention only made him the more lovable, forit made him feel that it was a kind world he lived in and everybody washis friend. 

It was after lunch that the Little Colonel came up-stairs carrying thediary, now half-filled with the record of their journeying. 

"Put it all down in the book, Papa Jack, " she demanded. "I'll nevah forgetto my dyin' day, but I want it written down heah in black and white thatHero saved me!"

CHAPTER IV. 

HERO'S STORY

Late that afternoon the Major sat out in the shady courtyard of the hotel, where vines, potted plants, and a fountain made a cool green garden spot. He was thinking of his little daughter, who had been dead many long years. The American child, whom his dog had rescued from the runaway in themorning, was wonderfully like her. She had the same fair hair, he thought, that had been his little Christine's great beauty; the same delicate, wild-rose pink in her cheeks, the same mischievous smile dimpling herlaughing face. But Christine's eyes had not been a starry hazel like theLittle Colonel's. They were blue as the flax-flowers she used togather--thirty, was it? No, forty years ago. 

As he counted the years, the thought came to him like a pain that he wasan old, old man now, all alone in the world, save for a dog, and a niecewhom he scarcely knew and seldom saw. 

As he sat there with his head bowed down, dreaming over his past, theLittle Colonel came out into the courtyard. She had dressed early and gonedown to the reading-room to wait until her mother was ready for dinner, but catching sight of the Major through the long glass doors, she laiddown her book. The lonely expression of his furrowed face, the bowed head, and the empty sleeve appealed to her strongly. 

"I believe I'll go out and talk to him, " she thought. "If grandfathah wereaway off in a strange land by himself like that, I'd want somebody tocheer him up. "

It is always good to feel that one is welcome, and Lloyd was glad that shehad ventured into the courtyard, when she saw the smile that lighted theMajor's face at sight of her, and when the dog, rising at her approach, came forward joyfully wagging his tail. 

The conversation was easy to begin, with Hero for a subject. There weremany things she wanted to know about him: how he happened to belong to theMajor; what country he came from; why he was called a St. Bernard, and ifthe Major had ever owned any other dogs. 

After a few questions it all came about as she had hoped it would. The oldman settled himself back in his chair, thought a moment, and then began atthe first of his acquaintance with St. Bernard dogs, as if he werereading a story from a book. 

"Away up in the Alpine Mountains, too high for trees to grow, where thereis only bare rock and snow and cutting winds, climbs the road that isknown as the Great St. Bernard Pass. It is an old, old road. The Celtscrossed it when they invaded Italy. The Roman legions crossed it when theymarched out to subdue Gaul and Germany. Ten hundred years ago the Saracenrobbers hid among its rocks to waylay unfortunate travellers. You willread about all that in your history sometime, and about the famous marchNapoleon made across it on his way to Marengo. But the most interestingfact about the road to me, is that for over seven hundred years there hasbeen a monastery high up on the bleak mountain-top, called the monasteryof St. Bernard. 

"Once, when I was travelling through the Alps, I stopped there one coldnight, almost frozen. The good monks welcomed me to their hospice, as theydo all strangers who stop for food and shelter, and treated me as kindlyas if I had been a brother. In the morning one of them took me out to thekennels, and showed me the dogs that are trained to look for travellers inthe snow. You may imagine with what pleasure I followed him, and listenedto the tales he told me. 

"He said there is not as much work for the dogs now as there used to beyears ago. Since the hospice has been connected with the valley towns bytelephone, travellers can inquire about the state of the weather and thepaths, before venturing up the dangerous mountain passes. Still, thestorms begin with little warning sometimes, and wayfarers are overtaken bythem and lost in the blinding snowfall. The paths fill suddenly, and butfor the dogs many would perish. "

"Oh, I know, " interrupted Lloyd, eagerly. "There is a story about them inmy old third readah, and a pictuah of a big St. Bernard dog with a flasktied around his neck, and a child on his back. "

"Yes, " answered the Major, "it is quite probable that that was a pictureof the dog they called Barry. He was with the good monks for twelve years, and in that time saved the lives of forty travellers. There is a monumenterected to him in Paris in the cemetery for dogs. The sculptor carved thatpicture into the stone, the noble animal with a child on his back, as ifhe were in the act of carrying it to the hospice. Twelve years is a longtime for a dog to suffer such hardship and exposure. Night after night heplunged out alone into the deep snow and the darkness, barking at the topof his voice to attract the attention of lost travellers. Many a time hedropped into the drifts exhausted, with scarcely enough strength left todrag himself back to the hospice. 

"Forty lives saved is a good record. You may be sure that in his old ageBarry was tenderly cared for. The monks gave him a pension and sent him toBerne, where the climate is much warmer. When he died, a taxidermistpreserved his skin, and he was placed in the museum at Berne, where hestands to this day, I am told, with the little flask around his neck. Isaw him there one time, and although Barry was only a dog, and I anofficer in my country's service, I stood with uncovered head before him. For he was as truly a hero and served human kind as nobly as if he hadfallen on the field of battle. 

"He had been trained like a soldier to his duty, and no matter how thestorms raged on the mountains, how dark the night, or how dangerous thepaths that led along the slippery precipices, at the word of command hesprang to obey. Only a dumb beast, some people would call him, guided onlyby brute instinct, but in his shaggy old body beat a loving heart, loyalto his master's command, and faithful to his duty. 

"As I stood there gazing into the kind old face, I thought of the timewhen I lay wounded on the field of Strasburg. How glad I would have beento have seen some dog like Barry come bounding to my aid! I had fallen ina thicket, where the ambulance corps did not discover me until next day. Ilay there all that black night, wild with pain, groaning for water. Icould see the lanterns of the ambulances as they moved about searching forthe wounded among the many dead, but was too faint from loss of blood toraise my head and shout for help. They told me afterward that, if my woundcould have received immediate attention, perhaps my arm might have beensaved. 

"But only a keen sense of smell could have traced me in the dense thicketwhere I lay. No one had thought of training dogs for ambulance servicethen. The men did their best, but they were only men, and I was overlookeduntil it was too late to save my arm. 

"Well, as I said, I stood and looked at Barry, wondering if it were notpossible to train dogs for rescue work on battle-fields as well as inmountain passes. The more I thought of it, the more my longing grew tomake such an attempt. I read everything I could find about trained dogs, visited kennels where collies and other intelligent sheepdogs were kept, and corresponded with many people about it. Finally I found a man who wasas much interested in the subject as I. Herr Bungartz is his name. To himchiefly belongs the credit for the development of the use of ambulancedogs, to aid the wounded on the field of battle. He is now at the head ofa society to which I belong. It has over a thousand members, includingmany princes and generals. 

"We furnish the money that supports the kennels, and the dogs are bred andtrained free for the army. Now for the last eight years it has been mygreatest pleasure to visit the kennels, where as many as fifty dogs arekept constantly in training. It was on my last visit that I got Hero. Hisleg had been hurt in some accident on the training field. It was thoughtthat he was too much disabled to ever do good service again, so theyallowed me to take him. Two old cripples, I suppose they thought we were, comrades in misfortune. 

"That was nearly a year ago. I took him to an eminent surgeon, told himhis history, and interested him in his case. He treated him sosuccessfully, that now, as you see, the leg is entirely well. Sometimes Ifeel that it is my duty to give him back to the service, although I paidfor the rearing of a fine Scotch collie in his stead. He is so unusuallyintelligent and well trained. But it would be hard to part with such agood friend. Although I have had him less than a year, he seems very muchattached to me, and I have grown more fond of him than I would havebelieved possible. I am an old man now, and I think he understands that heis all I have. Good Hero! He knows he is a comfort to his old master!"

At the sound of his name, uttered in a sad voice, the great dog got up andlaid his head on the Major's knee, looking wistfully into his face. 

"Of co'se you oughtn't to give him back!" cried the Little Colonel. "If hewere mine, I wouldn't give him up for the president, or the emperor, orthe czar, or _anybody!_"

"But for the soldiers, the poor wounded soldiers!" suggested the Major. 

Lloyd hesitated, looking from the dog to the empty sleeve above it. "Well, " she declared, at last, "I wouldn't give him up while the countryis at peace. I'd wait till the last minute, until there was goin' to be anawful battle, and then I'd make them promise to let me have him again whenthe wah was ovah. Just the minute it was ovah. It would be like givin'away part of your family to give away Hero. "

Suddenly the Major spoke to the dog in French, a quick, sharp sentencethat Lloyd could not understand. But Hero, without an instant'shesitation, bounded from the courtyard, where they sat, into the hall ofthe hotel. Through the glass doors she could see him leaping up thestairs, and, almost before the Major could explain that he had sent himfor the shoulder-bags he wore in service, the dog was back with themgrasped firmly in his mouth. 

"Now the flask, " said the Major. While the dog obeyed the second order, heopened the bags for Lloyd to examine them. They were marked with a redcross in a square of white, and contained rolls of bandages, from whichany man, able to use his arms, could help himself until his rescuerbrought further aid. 

The flask which Hero brought was marked in the same way, and the Majorbuckled it to his collar, saying, as he fastened first that and then theshoulder-bags in place, "When a dog is in training, soldiers, pretendingto be dead or wounded, are hidden in the woods or ravines and he is taughtto find a fallen body, and to bark loudly. If the soldier is in some placetoo remote for his voice to bring aid the dog seizes a cap, ahandkerchief, or a belt, --any article of the man's clothing which he canpick up, --and dashes back to the nearest ambulance. "

"What a lovely game that would make!" exclaimed Lloyd. "Do you supposethat I could train the two Bobs to do that? We often play soldiah atLocust. Now, what is it you say to Hero when you want him to hunt the men?Let me see if he'll mind me. "

The Major repeated the command. 

"But I can't speak French, " she said in dismay. "What is it in English?"

"Hero can't understand anything in English, " said the Major, laughing atthe perplexed expression that crept into the Little Colonel's face. 

"How funny!" she exclaimed. "I nevah thought of that befo'. I supposed ofco'se that all animals were English. Anyway, Hero comes when I call him, and wags his tail when I speak, just as if he undahstands every word. "

"It is the kindness in your voice he understands, and the smile in youreyes, the affection in your caress. That language is the same the worldover, to men and animals alike. But he never would start out to hunt thewounded soldiers unless you gave this command. Let me hear if you can sayit after me. "

Lloyd tripped over some of the rough sounds as she repeated the sentence, but tried it again and again until the Major cried "Bravo! You shall havemore lessons in French, dear child, until you can give the command so wellthat Hero shall obey you as he does me. "

Then he began talking of Christine, her fair hair, her blue eyes, herplayful ways; and Lloyd, listening, drew him on with many questions, tillthe little French maiden seemed to stand pictured before her, her handsfilled with the lovely spring flowers of the motherland. 

Suddenly the Major arose, bowing courteously, for Mrs. Sherman, seeingthem from the doorway, had smiled and started toward them. Springing up, Lloyd ran to meet her. 

"Mothah, " she whispered, "please ask the Majah to sit at ou' tableto-night at dinnah. He's such a deah old man, and tells such interestin'things, and he's lonesome. The tears came into his eyes when he talkedabout his little daughtah. She was just my age when she died, mothah, andhe thinks she looked like me. "

The Major's courtly manner and kind face had already aroused Mrs. Sherman's interest. His empty sleeve reminded her of her father. Hisloneliness appealed to her sympathy, and his kindness to her littledaughter had won her deepest appreciation. She turned with a cordial smileto repeat Lloyd's invitation, which was gladly accepted. 

That was the beginning of a warm friendship. From that time he wasincluded in their plans. Now, in nearly all their excursions and drives, there were four in the party instead of three, and five, very often. Whenever it was possible, Hero was with them. He and the Little Coloneloften went out together alone. It grew to be a familiar sight in the town, the graceful fair-haired child and the big tawny St. Bernard, walking sideby side along the quay. She was not afraid to venture anywhere with such aguard. As for Hero, he followed her as gladly as he did his master. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE RED CROSS OF GENEVA

A week after the runaway the handsomest collar that could be bought intown was fastened around Hero's neck. It had taken a long time to get it, for Mr. Sherman went to many shops before he found material that heconsidered good enough for the rescuer of his little daughter. Then thejeweller had to keep it several days while he engraved an inscription onthe gold name-plate--an inscription that all who read might know whathappened on a certain July day in the old Swiss town of Geneva. On theunder side of the collar was a stout link like the one on his old one, towhich the flask could be fastened when he was harnessed for service, andon the upper side, finely wrought in enamel, was a red cross on a whitesquare. 

"Papa Jack!" exclaimed Lloyd, examining it with interest, "that is thesame design that is on his blanket and shouldah-bags. Why, it's just likethe Swiss flag!" she cried, looking out at the banner floating from thepier. "Only the colours are turned around. The flag has a white cross on ared ground, and this is a red cross on a white ground. Why did you have itput on the collah, Papa Jack?"

"Because he is a Red Cross dog, " answered her father. 

"No, Papa Jack. Excuse me for contradictin', but the Majah said he was aSt. Bernard dog. "

Mr. Sherman laughed, but before he could explain he was called to theoffice to answer a telegram. When he returned Lloyd had disappeared tofind the Major, and ask about the symbol on the collar. She found him inhis favourite seat near the fountain, in the shady courtyard. Perching ona bench near by with Hero for a foot-stool, she asked, "Majah, is Hero aSt. Bernard or a Red Cross dog?"

"He is both, " answered the Major, smiling at her puzzled expression. "Heis the first because he belongs to that family of dogs, and he is thesecond because he was adopted by the Red Cross Association, and trainedfor its service. You know what that is, of course. "

Still Lloyd looked puzzled. She shook her head. "No, I nevah heard of it. Is it something Swiss or French?"

"Never heard of it!" repeated the Major. He spoke in such a surprisedtone that his voice sounded gruff and loud, and Lloyd almost jumped. Theharshness was so unexpected. 

"Think again, child, " he said, sternly. "Surely you have been told, atleast, of your brave countrywoman who is at the head of the organisationin America, who nursed not only the wounded of your own land, but followedthe Red Cross of mercy on many foreign battle-fields!"

"Oh, a hospital nurse!" said Lloyd, wrinkling her forehead and trying tothink. "Miss Alcott was one. Everybody knows about her, and her 'HospitalSketches' are lovely. "

"No! no!" exclaimed the Major, impatiently. Lloyd, feeling from his tonethat ignorance on this subject was something he could not excuse, triedagain. 

"I've heard of Florence Nightingale. In one of my books at home, a_Chatterbox_, I think, there is a picture of her going through a hospitalward. Mothah told me how good she was to the soldiahs, and how they lovedher. They even kissed her shadow on the wall as she passed. They were sograteful. "

"Ah, yes, " murmured the old man. "Florence Nightingale will live long insong and story. An angel of mercy she was, through all the horrors of theCrimean War; but she was an English woman, my dear. The one I mean is anAmerican, and her name ought to go down in history with the bravest of itspatriots and the most honoured of its benefactors. I learned to know herfirst in that long siege at Strasburg. She nursed me there, and I havefollowed her career with grateful interest ever since, noting withadmiration all that she has done for her country and humanity the worldover. 

"If America ever writes a woman's name in her temple of fame, dear child(I say it with uncovered head), that one should be the name of _ClaraBarton_. "

The old soldier lifted his hat as he spoke, and replaced it so solemnlythat Lloyd felt very uncomfortable, as if she were in some way to blamefor not knowing and admiring this Red Cross nurse of whom she had neverheard. Her face flushed, and much embarrassed, she drew the toe of herslipper along Hero's back, answering, in an abused tone:

"But, Majah, how could I be expected to know anything about her? There isnothing in ou' school-books, and nobody told me, and Papa Jack won't letme read the newspapahs, they're so full of horrible murdahs and things. Sohow could I evah find out? I couldn't learn _everything_ in twelve yeahs, and that's all the longah I've lived. "

The Major laughed. "Forgive me, little one!" he cried, seeing the distressand embarrassment in her face. "A thousand pardons! The fault is notyours, but your country's, that it has not taught its children to honourits benefactor as she deserves. I am glad that it has been given to me totell you the story of one of the most beautiful things that ever happenedin Switzerland--the founding of the Red Cross. You will remember it withgreater interest, I am sure, because, while I talk, the cross of the Swissflag floats over us, and it was here in this old town of Geneva themerciful work had its beginning. "

Lloyd settled herself to listen, still stroking Hero's back with herslipper toe. 

"He was my friend, Henri Durant, and in the old days of chivalry theywould have made him knight for the noble thought that sprang to flower inhis heart and to fruitage in so worthy a deed. He was travelling in Italyyears ago, and happening to be near the place where the battle ofSolferino was fought, he was so touched by the sufferings of the woundedthat he stopped to help care for them in the hospitals. The sights he sawthere were horrible. The wounded men could not be cared for properly. They died by the hundreds, because there were not enough nurses andsurgeons and food. 

"It moved him to write a book which was translated into several languages. People of many countries became interested and were aroused to a desire todo something to relieve the deadly consequences of war. Then he called ameeting of all the nations of Europe. That was over thirty years ago. Sixteen of the great powers sent men to represent them. They met here inGeneva and signed a treaty. One by one other countries followed theirexample, until now forty governments are pledged to keep the promises ofthe Red Cross. 

"They chose that as their flag in compliment to Switzerland, where themovement was started. You see they are the same except that the coloursare reversed. 

"Now, according to that treaty, wherever the Red Cross goes, on sea or onland, it means peace and safety for the wounded soldiers. In the midst ofthe bloodiest battle, no matter who is hurt, Turk or Russian, Japanese orSpaniard, Armenian or Arab, he is bound to be protected and cared for. Nonurse, surgeon, or ambulance bearing that Red Cross can be fired upon. They are allowed to pass wherever they are needed. 

"Before the nations joined in that treaty, the worst horror of war was thefate of a wounded soldier, falling into the hands of the enemy. Better athousand times to be killed in battle, than to be taken prisoner. Think ofbeing left, bleeding and faint, on an enemy's field till your clothes_froze to the ground_, and no one merciful enough to give you a crust ofbread or a drop of water. Think of the dying piled with the dead and leftto the pitiless rays of a scorching, tropic sun. That can never happenagain, thank Heaven!

"In time of peace, money and supplies are gathered and stored by eachcountry, ready for use at the first signal of war. To show her approval, the empress became the head of the branch in Germany. Soon after theFranco-Prussian war began, and then her only daughter, the Grand DuchessLouise of Baden, turned all her beautiful castles into military hospitals, and went herself to superintend the work of relief. 

"Your country did not join with us at first. You were having a terriblewar at home; the one in which your grandfather fought. All this time ClaraBarton was with the soldiers on their bloodiest battle-fields. When yougo home, ask your grandfather about the battles of Bull Run and Antietam, Fredericksburg and the Wilderness. She was there. She stood the strain ofnursing in sixteen such awful places, going from cot to cot among thethousands of wounded, comforting the dying, and dragging many a man backfrom the very grave by her untiring, unselfish devotion. 

"When the war was over, she spent four years searching for the soldiersreported missing. Hundreds and hundreds of pitiful letters came to her, giving name, regiment, and company of some son or husband or brother, whohad marched away to the wars and never returned. These names could not befound among the lists of the killed. They were simply reported as'missing'; whether dead or a deserter, no one could tell. She had spentweeks at Andersonville the summer after the war, identifying and markingthe graves there. She marked over twelve thousand. So when these letterscame imploring her aid, she began the search, visiting the old prisons, and trenches and hospitals, until she removed from twenty thousand namesthe possible suspicion that the men who bore them had been deserters. 

"No wonder that she came to Europe completely broken down in health, soexhausted by her long, severe labours that her physicians told her shemust rest several years. But hardly was she settled here in Switzerlandwhen the Franco-Prussian war broke out, and the Red Cross sought her aid, knowing how valuable her long experience in nursing would be to them. Shecould not refuse their appeals, and once more started in the wake ofpowder smoke, and cannon's roar. 

"But I'll not start on that chapter of her life, for, if I did, I wouldnot know where to stop. It was there I met her, there she nursed me backto life; then I learned to appreciate her devotion to the cause ofhumankind. This second long siege against suffering made her an invalidfor many years. 

"The other nations wondered why America refused to join them in theirhumane work. All other civilised countries were willing to lend a hand. But Clara Barton knew that it was because the people were ignorant of itsreal purpose that they did not join the alliance, and she promised thatshe would devote the remainder of her life, if need be, to showing Americathat as long as she refused to sign that treaty, she was standing on alevel with barbarous and heathen countries. 

"For years she was too ill to push the work she had set for herself. Whenher strength at last returned, she had to learn to walk. At last, however, she succeeded. America signed the treaty. Then, through her efforts, theAmerican National Red Cross was organised. She was made president of it. While no war, until lately, has called for its services, the Red Cross hasfound plenty to do in times of great national calamities. You have hadterrible fires and floods, cyclones, and scourges of yellow fever. Thentoo, it has taken relief to Turkey and lately has found work in Cuba. 

"I know that you would like to look into Miss Barton's jewel-box. OldEmperor William himself gave her the Iron Cross of Prussia. The Grand Dukeand Duchess of Baden sent her the Gold Cross of Remembrance. Medals anddecorations from many sovereigns are there--the Queen of Servia, theSultan of Turkey, the Prince of Armenia. Never has any American woman beenso loved and honoured abroad, and never has an American woman been moreworthy of respect at home. It must be a great joy to her now, as she sitsin the evening of life, to count her jewels of remembrance, and feel thatshe has done so much to win the gratitude of her fellow creatures. 

"You came to visit Switzerland because it is the home of many heroes; butlet me tell you, my child, this little republic has more to show the worldthan its William Tell chapels and its Lion of Lucerne. As long as the oldtown of Geneva stands, the world will not forget that here was given auniversal banner of peace, and here was signed its greatest treaty--thetreaty of the Red Cross. "

As the Major stopped, the Little Colonel looked up at the white crossfloating above the pier, and then down at the red one on Hero's collar, and drew a long breath. 

"I wish I could do something like that!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "I usedto wish that I could go out like Joan of Arc to do some great thing thatwould make people write books about me, and carve me on statues, and paintpictures and sing songs in my honah, but I believe that now I'd rathah dosomething bettah than ride off to battle on a prancin' white chargah. Thank you, Majah, for tellin' me the story. I'm goin' for a walk now. MayI take Hero?"

A few minutes later the two were wandering along beside the watertogether, the Little Colonel dreaming day-dreams of valiant deeds that shemight do some day, so that kings would send _her_ a Gold Cross ofRemembrance, and men would say with uncovered heads, as the old Major haddone, "If America ever writes a woman's name in her temple of fame, thatone should be the name of Lloyd Sherman--_The Little Colonel_!"

CHAPTER VI. 

THE WONDER-BALL'S BEST GIFT

As the time drew near for them to move northward, Lloyd began counting thehours still left to her to spend with her new-found friends. 

"Only two moah days, mothah, " she sighed "Only two moah times to gowalking with Hero. It seems to me that I _can't_ say good-bye and go away, and nevah see him again as long as I live!"

"He is going with us part of the way, " answered Mrs. Sherman. "The Majortold us last night that he had decided to visit his niece who lives atZürich. We will stop first for a few days at a little town called Zug, beside a lake of the same name. There is a William Tell chapel near therethat the Major wants to show us, and he will go up the Rigi with us. Ithink he dreads parting with you fully as much as you do from Hero. Hiseyes follow every movement you make. So many times in speaking of you hehas called you Christine. "

"I know, " answered Lloyd, thoughtfully. "He seems to mix me up with herin his thoughts, all the time. He is so old I suppose he is absent-minded. When I'm as old as he is, I won't want to travel around as he does. I'llwant to settle down in some comfortable place and stay there. "

"From what he said last night, I judge that this is the last time heexpects to visit that part of Switzerland. When he was a little boy heused to visit his grandmother, who lived near Zug. The chalet where shelived is still standing, and he wants to see it once more, he said, beforehe dies. "

"He must know lots of stories about the place, " said Lloyd. 

"He does. He has tramped all over the mountain back of the town after wildstrawberries, followed the peasants to the mowing, and gone to many a fêtein the village. We are fortunate to have such an interesting guide. "

"I wish that Betty could be with us to hear all the stories he tells us, "said Lloyd, beginning to look forward to the journey with more pleasure, now that she knew there was a prospect of being entertained by the Major. Usually she grew tired of the confinement in the little railway carriageswhere there were no aisles to walk up and down in, and fidgeted and yawnedand asked the time of day at every station. 

During the first part of the journey toward Zug, the Major had little tosay. He leaned wearily back in his seat with his eyes closed much of thetime. But as they began passing places that were connected withinteresting scenes of his childhood, he roused himself, and pointed themout with as much enjoyment as if he were a schoolboy, coming home on hisfirst vacation. 

"See those queer little towers still left standing on the remnants of theold town wall, " he said as they approached Zug. "The lake front rests on asoft, shifting substratum of sand, and there is danger, when the water isunusually low, that it may not be able to support the weight of the housesbuilt upon it. One day, over four hundred years ago, part of the wall andsome of the towers sank down into the lake with twenty-six houses. 

"I have heard my grandmother tell of it, many a time, as she heard thetale from her grandmother. Many lives were lost that day, and there was agreat panic. Later in the day, some one saw a cradle floating out in thelake, and when it was drawn in, there lay a baby, cooing and kicking uphis heels as happily as if cradle-rides on the water were commonoccurrences. He was the little son of the town clerk, and grew up to beone of my ancestors. Grandmother was very fond of telling that tale, howthe baby smiled on his rescuers, and what a fine, pleasant man he grew upto be, beloved by the whole village. 

"It has not been much over a dozen years since another piece of the townsank down into the water. A long stretch of lake front with houses andgardens and barns was sucked under. "

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Lloyd, with a shiver. "Let us go somewhere else, Papa Jack, " she begged. "I don't want to sleep in a place where the bottommay drop out any minute. "

Her father laughed at her fears, and the Major assured her that they wouldnot take her to a hotel near the water's edge. 

"We are going to the other side of the town, to an inn that stands closeagainst the mountainside. The inn-keeper is an old friend of mine, who haslived here all his life. "

In spite of all they said to quiet her fears, the Little Colonel was farfrom feeling comfortable, and took small pleasure at first in going to seethe sights of the quaint little town. She was glad when they pushed awayfrom the pier next morning, in the steamboat that was to take them acrossthe lake to the William Tell chapel. She dreaded to return, but a handfulof letters from Lloydsboro Valley, and one apiece from Betty and Eugeniathat she found awaiting her at the inn, made her forget the shifting sandsbelow her. She read and re-read some of them, answered several, and thenbegan to look for the Major and Hero. They were nowhere to be found. 

They went away directly after lunch, her father told her, to the chalet onthe mountain back of the town. "You will have to be content with my humblesociety, " he added. "You can't expect to be always escorted by titledsoldiers and heroes. "

"Now you're teasin', " said Lloyd, with a playful pout. "But I do wish thatthe Majah had left Hero. There are so few times left for us to go walkin'togethah. "

"I'm afraid that you look oftener at that dog than you do at the sceneryand the foreign sights that you came over here to see, " said her father, with a smile. "You can see dogs in Lloydsboro Valley any day. "

"But none like Hero, " cried the Little Colonel, loyally. "And I _am_noticin' the sights, Papa Jack. I think there was nevah anything moahbeautiful than these mountains, and I just love it heah when it is sosunny and still. Listen to the goat-bells tinklin' away up yondah wherethat haymakah is climbing with a pack of hay tied on his shouldahs! Andhow deep and sweet the church-bell sounds down heah in the valley as ittolls across the watah! The lake looks as blue as the sapphires inmothah's necklace. The pictuah it makes for me is one of the loveliestthings that my wondah-ball has unrolled. Nobody could have a bettahbirthday present than this trip has been. The only thing about it that hasmade me unhappy for a minute is that I must leave Hero and nevah see himagain. He follows me just as well now as he does his mastah. "

The Major came back from his long climb up the mountain, very tired. "Itis more than I should have undertaken the first day, " he said, "but backhere in the scenes of my boyhood I find it hard to realise that I am anold, old man. I'll be rested in the morning, however, ready for whatevercomes. "

But in the morning he was still much exhausted, and came down-stairsleaning heavily on his cane. He asked to be excused from going up on theRigi with them. He said that he would stay at home and sit in the sun andrest. They offered to postpone the trip, but he insisted on their goingwithout him. They must be moving on to Zürich, soon, he reminded them, andthey might not have another day of such perfect weather, for theexcursion. 

Hero stood looking from the Major in his chair, to the Little Colonel, standing with her hat and jacket on, ready to start. He could notunderstand why he and his master should be left behind, and walked fromone to the other, wagging his tail and looking up questioningly into theirfaces. 

"Go, if you wish, " said the Major, kindly patting his head. "Go and takegood care of thy little Christine. Let no harm befall her this day!" Thedog bounded away as if glad of the permission, but at the door turnedback, and seeing that the Major was not following, picked up his hat inhis mouth. Then, carrying it back to the Major, stood looking up into hismaster's face, wagging his tail. 

The Major took the hat and laid it on the table beside him. "No, notto-day, good friend, " he said, smiling at the dog's evident wish to havehim go also. "You may go without me, this time. Call him, Christine, ifyou wish his company. "

"Come Hero, come on, " called Lloyd. "It's all right. "

The Major waved his hand toward her, saying, "Go, Hero. Guard her well andbring her back safely. The dear little Christine!" The name was utteredalmost in a whisper. 

With a quick, short bark, Hero started after the Little Colonel, stayingso closely by her side that they entered the train together before theguard could protest. If he could have resisted the appealing look in theLittle Colonel's eyes as she threw an arm protectingly around Hero's neck, he could not find it in his heart to refuse the silver that Papa Jackslipped into his hand; so for once the two comrades travelled side byside. Hero sat next the window, and looked out anxiously, as the littlemountain engine toiled up the steep ascent, nearer and nearer to the top. 

It was noon when they reached the hotel on the summit where they stoppedfor lunch. 

"How solemn it makes you feel to be up so high above all the world!" saidLloyd, in an awed tone, as they walked around that afternoon, and tookturns looking through the great telescope, at the valley spread out like amap below them. 

"How tiny the lake looks, and the town is like a toy village! I thoughtthat the top of a mountain went up to a fine point like a church steeple, and that there wouldn't be a place to stand on when you got there. Seemsthat way when you look up at it from the valley. It doesn't seem possiblethat it is big enough to have hotels built on it and lots and lots of roomleft ovah. When the Majah said to Hero, in such a solemn way, 'Take goodcare of thy little Christine, let no harm befall her this day, ' I thoughtmaybe he wanted Hero to hold my dress in his teeth, so that I couldn'tfall off. "

Mrs. Sherman laughed and Mr. Sherman said, "Do you know that you areactually up above the clouds? What seems to be mist, rolling over thevalley down there like a dense fog, is really cloud. In a short time weshall not be able to see through it. "

"Oh, oh!" cried the Little Colonel, in astonishment. "Really, Papa Jack? Ialways thought that if I could get up into the clouds I could reach outand touch the moon and the stars. Of co'se I know bettah now, but I shouldthink I'd be neah enough to see them. "

"No, " answered her father, "that is one of the sad facts of life. Nomatter how loudly we may cry for the moon, it is hung too high for us toreach, and the 'forget-me-nots of the angels, ' as Longfellow calls thestars, are not for hands like ours to pick. But in a very little while Ithink that we shall see the lightning below us. Those clouds down thereare full of rain. They may rise high enough to give us a wetting, so itwould be wise for us to hurry back to the hotel. "

"It is the strangest thing that evah happened to me in all my life!" saidLloyd a few minutes later, as they sat on the hotel piazza, watching thestorm below them. Overhead the summer sun was shining brightly, but justbelow the heavy storm clouds rolled, veiling all the valley from sight. They could see the forked tongues of lightning darting back and forth farbelow them, and hear the heavy rumble of thunder. 

"It seems so wondahful to think that we are safe up above the storm. Look!There is a rainbow! And there is anothah and anothah! Oh, it is sobeautiful, I'm glad it rained!"

The storm, that had lasted for nearly an hour, gradually cleared away tillthe valley lay spread out before them once more, in the sunshine, greenand dripping from the summer shower. 

"Well, " said the Little Colonel, as they started homeward, "aftah thisI'll remembah that no mattah how hard it rains the sun is always shiningsomewhere. It nevah hides itself from us. It is the valley that getsbehind the clouds, just as if it was puttin' a handkerchief ovah its facewhen it wanted to cry. It's a comfort to know that the sun keeps shining, on right on, unchanged. "

It was nearly dark when they reached the little inn again in Zug. Thenarrow streets were wet, and the eaves of the houses still dripping. Thelandlord came out to meet them with an anxious face. "Your friend, the oldMajor, " he said, in his broken English, "he have not yet return. I fearthe storm for him was bad. "

"Where did he go?" inquired Mr. Sherman. "I did not know that he intendedleaving the hotel at all to-day. He did not seem well. "

"Early after lunch, " was the answer. "He say he will up the mountain go, behind the town. He say that now he vair old man, maybe not again will hecome this way, and one more time already before he die, he long to gatherfor himself the Alpine rosen. "

"Have you had a hard storm here?" asked Mrs. Sherman. 

The landlord shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands. 

"The vair worst, madame. Many trees blow down. The lightning he strike ahouse next to the church of St. Oswald, and a goatherd coming down justnow from the mountain say that the paths are heaped with fallen limbs, andslippery with mud. That is why for I fear the Major have one accidentmet. "

"Maybe he has stopped at some peasant's hut for shelter, " suggested Mr. Sherman, seeing the distress in Lloyd's face. "He knows the region aroundhere thoroughly. However, if he is not here by the time we are throughdinner, we'll organise a searching party. "

"Hero knows that something is wrong, " said the Little Colonel, as theywent into the dining-room a few minutes later. "See how uneasy he seems, walking from room to room. He is trying to find his mastah. "

The longer they discussed the Major's absence the more alarmed theybecame, as the time passed and he did not return. 

"You know, " suggested Lloyd, "that with just one arm he couldn't helphimself much if he should fall. Maybe he has slipped down some of thosemuddy ravines that the goatherd told about. Besides, he was so weak andtiahed this mawnin. '"

Presently her face brightened with a sudden thought. 

"Oh, Papa Jack! Let's send Hero. I know where the Majah keeps his things, the flask and the bags, and the dog will know, as soon as they arefastened on him, that he must start on a hunt. And I believe I can say thewords in French so that he'll undahstand. Only yestahday the Majah had merepeating them. "

"That's a bright idea, " answered her father, who was really more anxiousthan he allowed any one to see. "At least it can do no harm to try. "

"I don't want any dessert. Mayn't I go now?" Lloyd asked. As she hurriedup the stairs, her heart beating with excitement, she whispered toherself, "Oh, if he _should_ happen to be lost or hurt, and Hero shouldfind him, it would be the loveliest thing that evah happened. "

Hero seemed to know, from the moment he saw the little flask marked withthe well-known Red Cross, what was expected of him. All the guests in theinn gathered around the door to see him start on his uncertain quest. Hesniffed excitedly at his master's slipper, which Lloyd held out to him. Then, as she motioned toward the mountain, and gave the command in Frenchthat the Major had taught her, he bounded out into the gloaming, withseveral quick short barks, and darted up the narrow street that led to themountain road. 

Maybe if he had not been with his master that way, the day before, hemight not have known what path to take. The heavy rain had washed away alltrails, so he could not trace him by the sense of smell; but rememberingthe path which they had travelled together the previous day, heinstinctively started up that. 

The group in the doorway of the inn watched him as long as they could seethe white line of his silvery ruff gleam through the dusk, and then, goingback to the parlour, sat down to wait for his return. To most of them itwas a matter of only passing interest. They were curious to know how muchthe dog's training would benefit his master, under the circumstances, ifhe should be lost. But to the Little Colonel it seemed a matter of lifeand death. She walked nervously up and down the hall with her hands behindher, watching the clock and running to the door to peer out in thedarkness, every time she heard a sound. 

Some one played a noisy two-step on the loose-jointed old piano. A youngman sang a serenade in Italian, and two girls, after much coaxing, consented to join in a high, shrill duet. 

Light-hearted laughter and a babel of conversation floated from theparlour to the hall, where Lloyd watched and waited. Her father waitedwith her, but he had a newspaper. Lloyd wondered how he could read whilesuch an important search was going on. She did not know that he had littlefaith in the dog's ability to find his master. She, however, had not asingle doubt of it. 

The time seemed endless. Again and again the little cuckoo in the hallclock came out to call the hour, the quarters and halves. At last therewas a patter of big soft paws on the porch, and Lloyd springing to thedoor, met Hero on the threshold. Something large and gray was in hismouth. 

"Oh, Papa Jack!" she cried. "He's found him! Hero's found him! This is theMajah's Alpine hat. The flask is gone from his collah, so the Majah musthave needed help. And see how wild Hero is to start back. Oh, Papa Jack!Hurry, please!"

Her call brought every one from the parlour to see the dog, who wasspringing back and forth with eager barks that asked, as plainly as words, for some one to follow him. 

"Oh, let me go with you! _Please_, Papa Jack, " begged Lloyd. 

He shook his head decidedly. "No, it is too late and dark, and no tellinghow far we shall have to climb. You have already done your part, my dear, in sending the dog. If the Major is really in need of help, he will haveyou to thank for his rescue. "

The landlord called for lanterns. Several of the guests seized their hatsand alpenstocks, and in a few minutes the little relief party was hurryingalong the street after their trusty guide, with Mr. Sherman in the lead. He had caught up a hammock as he started. "We may need some kind of astretcher, " he said, slinging it over his shoulder. 

They trudged on in silence, wondering what they would find at the end oftheir journey. The mountain path was strewn with limbs broken off by thestorm. Although the moon came up presently and added its faint light tothe yellow rays of the lanterns, they had to pick their steps slowly, often stumbling. 

Hero, bounding on ahead, paused to look back now and then, with impatientbarks. They had climbed more than an hour, when he suddenly shot aheadinto the darkest part of the woods and gave voice so loudly that they knewthat they had reached the end of their search, and pushed forwardanxiously. 

The moonlight could not reach this spot among the trees, so denselyshaded, but the lanterns showed them the old man a short distance from thepath. He was pinned to the wet earth by a limb that had fallen partlyacross him. Fortunately, the storm had been unable to twist it entirelyfrom the tree. Only the outer end of the limb had struck him, but thetangle of leafy boughs above him was too thick to creep through. Hisclothes were drenched, and on the ground beside him, beaten flat by thestorm, lay the bunch of Alpine roses he had climbed so far to find. 

He was conscious when the men reached him. The brandy in the flask hadrevived him and as they drew him out from under the branches and stretchedthe hammock over some poles for a litter, he told them what had happened. He had been some distance farther up the mountain, and had stopped at apeasant's hut for some goat's milk. He rested there a long time, nevernoticing in the dense shade of the woods that a storm was gathering. 

It came upon him suddenly. His head was hurt, and his back. He could nottell how badly. He had lain so long on the wet ground that he was numbwith cold, but thought he would be better when he was once more restingwarm and dry at the inn. 

He stretched out his hand to Hero and feebly patted him, a faint smilecrossing his face. "Thou best of friends, " he whispered. "Thou--" Then hestopped, closing his eyes with a groan. They were lifting him on thestretcher, and the pain caused by the movement made him faint. 

It was a slow journey down the slippery mountain path. The men who carriedhim had to pick their steps carefully. At the inn the little cuckoo cameout of the clock in the hall and called eleven, half past, and midnight, before the even tramp, tramp of approaching feet made the Little Colonelrun to the door for the last time. 

"They're comin', mothah, " she whispered, with a frightened face, and thenran back to hide her eyes while the men passed up the steps with theirunconscious burden. She thought the Major was dead, he lay so white andstill. But he had only fainted again on the way, and soon revived enoughto answer the doctor's questions, and send word to the Little Colonel thatshe and Hero had saved his life. "Do you heah that?" she asked of Hero, when they told her what he had said. "The doctah said that if the Majahhad lain out on that cold, wet ground till mawnin', without any attention, it surely would have killed him. I'm proud of you, Hero. I'm goin' to getPapa Jack to write a piece about you and send it to the _Courier-Journal_. How would you like to have yo' name come out in a big American newspapah?"

Several lonely days followed for the Little Colonel. Either her father ormother was constantly with the Major, and sometimes both. They werewaiting for his niece to come from Zürich and take him back with her to ahospital where he could have better care than in the little inn in Zug. 

It greatly worried the old man that he should be the cause of disarrangingtheir plans and delaying their journey. He urged them to go on and leavehim, but they would not consent. Sometimes the Little Colonel slipped intothe room with a bunch of Alpine roses or a cluster of edelweiss that shehad bought from some peasant. Sometimes she sat beside him for a fewminutes, but most of her time was spent with Hero, wandering up and downbeside the lake, feeding the swans or watching the little steamboats comeand go. She had forgotten her fear of the bottom dropping out of the town. 

One evening, just at sunset, the Major sent for her. "I go to Zürich inthe morning, " he said, holding out his hand as she came into the room. "Iwanted to say good-bye while I have the time and strength. We expect toleave very early to-morrow, probably before you are awake. "

His couch was drawn up by the window, through which the shimmering lakeshone in the sunset like rosy mother-of-pearl. Far up the mountain soundedthe faint tinkling of goat-bells, and the clear, sweet yodelling of apeasant, on his homeward way. At intervals, the deep tolling of the bellof St. Oswald floated out across the water. 

"When the snow falls, " he said, after a long pause, "I shall be far awayfrom here. They tell me that at the hospital where I am going, I shallfind a cure. But I know. " He pointed to an hour-glass on the table besidehim. "See! the sand has nearly run its course. The hour will soon be done. It is so with me. I have felt it for a long time. "

Lloyd looked up, startled. He went on slowly. 

"I cannot take Hero with me to the hospital, so I shall leave him behindwith some one who will care for him and love him, perhaps even better thanI have done. " He held out his hand to the dog. 

"Come, Hero, my dear old comrade, come bid thy master farewell. " Fumblingunder his pillow as he spoke, he took out a small leather case, and, opening it, held up a medal. It was the medal that had been given him forbravery on the field of battle. 

"It is my one treasure!" murmured the old soldier, turning it fondly, asit lay in his palm. "I have no family to whom I can leave it as anheirloom, but thou hast twice earned the right to wear it. I have no fearbut that thou wilt always be true to the Red Cross and thy name of Hero, so thou shalt wear thy country's medal to thy grave. "

He fastened the medal to Hero's collar, then, with the dog's great headpressed fondly against him, he began talking to him softly and gently inFrench. Lloyd could not understand, but the sight of the gray-haired oldsoldier taking his last leave of his faithful friend brought the tears toher eyes. 

She tried to describe the scene to her mother, afterward. 

"Oh, it was so pitiful!" she exclaimed. "It neahly broke my heart. Then hecalled me to him and said that because I was like his little Christine, heknew that I would be good to Hero, and he asked me to take him back toAmerica with me. I promised that I would. Then he put Hero's paw in myhand, and said, 'Hero, I give thee to thy little mistress. Protect andguard her always, as she will love and care for thee. ' It was awfullysolemn, almost like some kind of blessing. 

"Then he lay back on the pillows as if he was too tiahed to say anothahword. I tried to thank him, but I was so surprised and glad that Hero wasmine, and yet so sorry to say good-bye to the Majah, that the right wordswouldn't come. I just began to cry again. But I am suah the Majahundahstood. He patted my hand and smoothed my hair and said things inFrench that sounded as if he was tryin' to comfort me. Aftah awhile Iremembahed that we had been there a long time, and ought to go, so Ikissed him good-bye, and Hero and I went out, leavin' the doah open as hetold us. He watched us all the way down the hall. When I turned at thestairway to look back, he was still watchin'. He smiled and waved hishand, but the way he smiled made me feel worse than evah, it was so sad. "

Mr. Sherman went with the Major next morning, when he was taken to Zürich. Lloyd was asleep when they left the inn, so the last remembrance she hadof the Major was the way he looked as he lay on his couch in the sunset, smiling, and waving his hand to her. When Christmastide came, it was as hesaid. He was with his little Christine. 

"I can hardly keep from crying whenever I think of him, " Lloyd wrote toBetty. "It was so pitiful, his giving up everything in the world that hecared for, and going off to the hospital to wait there alone for hishour-glass to run out. Hero seems to miss him, but I think he understandsthat he belongs to me now. I can scarcely believe that he is really mine, and that I may take him back to America with me. He is the best thing thatthe wonder-ball has given me, or ever can give me. 

"To-morrow we start to Lucerne to see the Lion in the rocks, and fromthere we go to Paris. Only a little while now, and we shall all betogether. I can hardly wait for you to see my lovely St. Bernard with hisRed Cross of Geneva, and the medal that he has earned the right to wear. "

CHAPTER VII. 

IN TOURS

A dozen times between Paris and Tours the Little Colonel turned from thecar window to smile at her mother, and say with a wriggle of impatience, "Oh, I can't _wait_ to get there! Won't Betty and Eugenia be surprised tosee us two whole days earlier than they expected!"

"But you mustn't count too much on seeing them at the hotel the minute wearrive, " her mother cautioned her. "You know Cousin Carl wrote that theywere making excursions every day to the old châteaux near there, and Ithink it quite probable they will be away. So don't set your heart onseeing them before to-morrow night. Some of those trips take two days. "

Lloyd turned to the window again and tried to busy herself with the scenesflying past: the peasant women with handkerchiefs over their heads, andthe men in blue cotton blouses and wooden shoes at work in the fields; thelime-trees and the vineyards, the milk-carts that dogs helped to draw. Itwas all as Joyce had described it to her, and she pinched herself to makesure that she was awake, and actually in France, speeding along toward theGate of the Giant Scissors, and all the delightful foreign experience thatJoyce had talked about. She had dreamed many day-dreams about thisjourney, but the thought that was giving her most pleasure now was notthat these dreams were at last coming true, but that in a very short timeshe would be face to face with Betty and Eugenia. 

It was noon when they reached Tours, and went rattling up to the HotelBordeaux in the big omnibus. At first Lloyd was disposed to find faultwith the quaint, old-fashioned hotel which Cousin Carl had chosen as theirmeeting-place. It had no conveniences like the modern ones to which shehad been accustomed. There was not even an elevator in it. She looked indismay at the steep, spiral stairway, winding around and around in the endof the hall, like the steps in the tower of a lighthouse. On a side tablein the hall, several long rows of candles, with snuffers, suggested thekind of light they would have in their bedrooms. 

But everything was spotlessly clean, and the landlady and her daughtercame out to meet them with an air of giving them a welcome home, whichextended even to the dog. After their hospitable reception of Hero, Lloydhad no more fault to find. She knew that at no modern hotel would he havebeen treated so considerately and given the liberty of the house. Since hewas not banished to the courtyard or turned over to a porter's care, shewas willing to climb a dozen spiral stairways, or grope her way throughthe semi-darkness of a candle-lighted bedroom every night while they werein France, for the sake of having Hero free to come and go as he pleased. 

"Come on!" she cried, gaily, to her mother, as a porter with a trunk onhis shoulder led the way up the spiral stairs. "It makes me think of theold song you used to sing me about the spidah and the fly, 'The way intomy pahlah is up a winding stair. ' Nobody but a circus acrobat could run upthe whole flight without getting dizzy. It's a good thing we are onlygoin' to the next floah. "

She ran around several circles of steps, and then paused to look back ather mother, who was waiting for Mr. Sherman's helping arm. "The elephantnow goes round and round when the band begins to play, " quoted Lloyd, looking down on them, her face dimpling with laughter. 

"Look out!" piped a shrill voice far above her. "I'm coming!" Lloyd gave ahasty glance upward to the top floor, and drew back against the wall. Fordown the banister, with the speed of a runaway engine, came sliding asmall bare-legged boy. Around and around the dizzy spiral he went, huggingthe railing closely, and bringing up with a tremendous bump against thenewel post at the bottom. 

"Hullo!" he said, coolly, looking up at the Little Colonel. 

"It's _Henny!_" she exclaimed, in amazement. "Henderson Sattawhite! Of allpeople! How did you get heah?"

But the boy had no time to waste in talking. He stuck his thumb in hismouth, looked at her an instant, and then, climbing down from thebanister, started to the top of the stairs as fast as his short legs couldcarry him, for another downward spin. 

Lloyd waited for her mother to come up to the step on which she stood, andthen said, with a look of concern, "Do you suppose they are all heah, 'Fido' an' all of them? And that Howl will follow me around as he did onshipboard, beggin' for stories? It will spoil all my fun with the girls ifhe does. "

"'Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you, '" said her father, playfully pinching her cheek. "You'll find it easier to escape persecutionon land than on shipboard. Henny didn't seem at all anxious to renew hisacquaintance with you. He evidently finds sliding down bannisters more tohis taste. Maybe Howell has found something equally interesting. "

"I certainly hope so, " said Lloyd, running on to their rooms at the end ofthe hall. The casement window in her room looked out over a broadbouleyard, down the middle of which went a double row of trees, shading astrip of grass, where benches were set at intervals. 

Lloyd leaned out to look and listen. A company of soldiers was marching upthe street in the gay red and blue of their French uniforms, to the musicof a band. A group of girls from a convent school passed by. Then somenuns. She stood there a long time, finding the panorama that passed herwindow so interesting that she forgot how time was passing, until hermother called to her that they were going down to lunch. 

"I like it heah, evah so much, " she announced, as she followed her fatherand mother into the dining-room. "Did you ask in the office, Papa Jack, when the girls would be back?"

"Yes, they have gone to Amboise. They will be home before dark. I amsorry you missed taking that trip with them, Lloyd. It is one of the mostinteresting châteaux around here in my opinion. Mary, Queen of Scots, wentthere a bride. There she was forced to watch the Hugenots being thrownover into the river. Leonardo da Vinci is buried there, and Charles VIII. Was killed there by bumping his head against a low doorway. "

"Oh, deah!" sighed the Little Colonel, "my head is all in a tangle. There's so many spots to remembah. Every time you turn around you bumpinto something you ought to remembah because some great man was bawnthere, or died there, or did something wondahful there. It would be lotseasiah for travellers in Europe if there wasn't so many monuments to smahtpeople. Who must I remembah in Tours?"

"Balzac, " said her father, laughing. "The great French novelist. But thatwill not be hard. There is a statue of him on one of the principalstreets, and after you have passed him every day for a week, you willthink of him as an old acquaintance. Then this is the scene of one ofScott's novels--'Quentin Durward. ' And the good St. Martin lived here. There is a church to his memory. He is the patron saint of the place. Atthe châteaux you will get into a tangle of history, for their chiefinterest is their associations with the old court life. "

"Where is Hero?" asked Mrs. Sherman, suddenly changing the conversation. 

"He's in the pahlah, stretched out on a rug, " answered Lloyd. "It's cooland quiet in there with the blinds down. The landlady's daughtah said noone went in there often, in the middle of the day, so nobody would disturbhim, and he'd not disturb anybody. He's all tiahed out, comin' so far onthe cars. May I go walkin' with him aftah awhile, mothah?"

Mrs. Sherman looked at her husband, questioningly. "Oh, it's perfectlysafe, " he answered. "She could go alone here as well as in LloydsboroValley, and with Hero she could have nothing to fear. "

"I want you to rest awhile first, " said Mrs. Sherman. "At four o'clock youmay go. "

Leaving Hero comfortably stretched out asleep in the parlour, Lloyd wentback to her room. She lay down for a few minutes across the bed and closedher eyes. But she could not sleep with so many interesting sights in thestreet below. Presently she tiptoed to the window, and sat looking outuntil she heard her mother moving around in the next room. She knew thenthat she had had her nap and was unpacking the trunks. 

"Mothah, " called Lloyd, "I want to put on my prettiest white embroidereddress and my rosebud sash, because I'll meet Cousin Carl and the girlsto-night. "

"That is just what I have unpacked for you, " said her mother. "Come in andI'll help you dress. "

Half an hour later it was a very fresh and dainty picture that smiled backat Lloyd from the mirror of her dressing-table. She shook out her crispwhite skirts, gave the rosebud sash an admiring pat, and turned her headfor another view of the big leghorn hat with its stylish rosettes of whitechiffon. Then she started down the hall toward the spiral stairway. It wasa narrow hall with several cross passages, and at one of them she paused, wondering if it did not lead to Eugenia's and Betty's rooms. 

To her speechless surprise, a door popped open and a cupful of water wasdashed full in her face. Spluttering and angry, she drew back in time toavoid another cupful, which came flying through the transom above the samedoor. Retreating still farther down the passage, and wiping her face asshe went, she kept her gaze on the door, walking backward in order to doso. 

Another cupful came splashing out into the hall through the transom. Aboy, tiptoeing up to the door, dodged back so quickly that not a droptouched him; then with a long squirt gun that he carried, he knelt beforethe keyhole and sent a stream of water squirting through it. It wasHowell. 

There was a scream from the bedroom, Fidelia's voice. "Stop that, youhateful boy! I'll tell mamma! You've nearly put my eye out. "

A muffled giggle and a scamper of feet down the hall was the only answer. Fidelia threw open the door and looked out, a water pitcher in her hand. She stopped in amazement at sight of the Little Colonel, who was waitingfor a chance to dodge down the hall past the dangerous door, into the mainpassage. 

"For mercy sakes!" exclaimed Fidelia. "When did _you_ come?"

"In time fo' yoah watah fight, " answered the indignant Little Colonel, shaking out her wet handkerchief. She was thoroughly provoked, for thefront of her fresh white dress was drenched, and the dainty rosebud sashstreaked with water. 

Fidelia laughed. "You don't mean to say that you caught the ducking Imeant for Howl!" she exclaimed. "Well, if that isn't a joke! It's thefunniest thing I ever heard of!" Putting the pitcher on the floor andclasping her hands to her sides, she laughed until she had to lean againstthe wall. 

"It's moah bad mannahs than a joke!" retorted Lloyd, angered more by thelaugh than she had been by the wetting. "A girl as old as you oughtn't togo travellin' till you know how to behave yo'self in a hotel. I don'twondah that wherevah you go people say, 'Oh, those dreadful Americanchildren!'"

"It isn't so! They don't say it!" snapped Fidelia. "I've got just as goodmanners as you have, anyhow, and I'll throw this whole pitcher of water onyou if you say another word. " She caught it up threateningly. 

"You just _dare!_" cried the Little Colonel, her eyes flashing and hercheeks flushing. Not for years had she been so angry. She wanted to screamand pull Fidelia's hair with savage fingers. She wanted to bump her headagainst the wall, again and again. But with an effort so great that itmade her tremble, she controlled herself, and stood looking steadily atFidelia without a word. 

"I mustn't speak, " she kept saying desperately to herself. "I mustn'tspeak, or my tempah will get away with me. I might claw her eyes out. Iwish I could! Oh, I _wish_ I could!" Her teeth were set tightly together, and her hands were clenched. 

Fidelia met her angry gaze unflinchingly for an instant, and then, with acontemptuous "pooh!" raised the pitcher and gave it a lurch forward. Itwas so heavy that it turned in her hands, and instead of drenching Lloyd, its contents deluged Fanchette, who suddenly came out of the door besideLloyd, with the thousand dollar poodle in her arms. 

Poor Beauty gave an injured yelp, and Fidelia drew back and slammed thedoor, locking it hastily. She knew that the maid would hurry to hermistress while he was still shivering, and that there would be anuncomfortable account to settle by and by. 

Howell, who had crept up to watch the fuss, doubled himself with laughter. It amused him even more than it had Fidelia that he had escaped the water, and Lloyd had caught it in his stead. Lloyd swept past him without a word, and ran to her mother's room so angry that she could not keep the tearsback while telling her grievance. 

"_See_ what that horrid Sattawhite girl has done!" she cried, holding outher limp wet skirts, and streaked sash, with an expression of disgust. Ijust _despise_ her!"

"It was an accident, was it not?" asked Mrs. Sherman. 

"Oh, she didn't know she was throwing the watah on me, when she pitched itout, but she was glad that it happened to hit me. She didn't even say'excuse me, ' let alone say that she was sorry. And she laughed and held onto her sides, and laughed again, and said, 'oh, what a joke, ' and that itwas the funniest thing that she evah saw. I think her mothah ought to knowwhat bad mannahs she's got. Somebody ought to tell her. I told Fideliawhat I thought of her, and I'll nevah speak to her again! So there!"

Mrs. Sherman listened sympathetically to her tale of woe, but as sheunbuttoned the wet dress, and Lloyd still stormed on, she sighed as if toherself, "Poor Fidelia!"

"Why, mothah, " said Lloyd, in an aggrieved tone, "I didn't s'pose thatyou'd take her part against me. "

"Stop and think a minute, little daughter, " said Mrs. Sherman, opening hertrunk to take out another white dress. Lloyd was working herself up into awhite heat. "Put yourself in Fidelia's place, and think how she has alwaysbeen left to the care of servants, or of a governess who neglected her. Think how much help you have had in trying to control your temper, and howlittle you have had to provoke it. Suppose you had Howell and Hendersonalways tagging after you to tease and annoy you, and that I had alwaysbeen too busy with my own affairs to take any interest in you, except topunish you when I was exasperated by the tales that you told of eachother. Wouldn't that have made a difference in your manners?"

"Y-yes, " acknowledged Lloyd, slowly. Then, after a moment's silence, shebroke out again. "I might have forgiven her if only she hadn't laughed atme. Whenevah I think of that I want to shake her. If I live to be ahundred yeahs old, I can nevah think of Fidelia Sattawhite, withoutremembahin' the mean little way she laughed!"

"What kind of a memory are you leaving behind you?" suggested Mrs. Sherman, touching the little ring on Lloyd's finger that had been hertalisman since the house party. "Will it be a Road of the Loving Heart?"

Lloyd hesitated. "No, " she acknowledged, frankly. "Of co'se when I stop tothink, I do want to leave that kind of a memory for everybody. I'd hate tothink that when I died, there'd be even one person who had cause to sayugly things about me, even Fidelia. But just now, mothah, honestly when Iremembah how she _laughed_, I feel that I must be as mean to her as she isto me. I can't help it. "

Mrs. Sherman made no answer, but turned to her own dressing, and presentlyLloyd kissed her, and went slowly down-stairs to find Hero. He was nolonger dreaming in peace. Two restless boys cooped up in the narrow limitsof the hotel, and burning with a desire to be amused, had discovered himthrough the crack of the door, and immediately pounced upon him. 

"Aw, ain't he nice!" exclaimed Henny, stroking the shaggy back with adirty little hand. Howl felt in his blouse, hoping to find some crumb leftof the stock of provisions stored away at lunch-time. 

"Feel there, Henny, " he commanded, backing up to his little brother, andhumping his shoulders. "Ain't that a cooky slipped around to the back ofmy blouse? Put your hand up and feel. "

Henny obligingly explored the back of his brother's blouse, and fished outthe last cooky, which they fed to Hero. 

"Wisht we had some more, " said Howell, as the cake disappeared. "Henny, you go up and see if you can't hook some of Beauty's biscuit. "

"Naw! I don't want to. I want to play with the dog, " answered Henny, "He'sbig enough to ride on. Stand up, old fellow, and let me get on your back. "

"I'll tell you a scheme, " cried Howl; "you run up-stairs and get one ofmamma's shawl-straps, and we'll fix a harness for him, and make him rideus around the room. "

"All right, " agreed Henny, trotting out into the hall. At the door he metLloyd. When she went into the room she found Howell lying on the floor, burrowing his head into the dog's side for a pillow. Hero did not like it, and, shaking himself free, walked across the room and lay down in anotherplace. 

Howl promptly followed, and pillowed his head on him again. Hero lookedaround with an appealing expression in his big, patient eyes, once moregot up, crossed the room, and lay down in a corner. Howell followed himlike a teasing mosquito. 

"Don't bothah him, Howl, " said Lloyd. "Don't you see that he doesn't likeit?"

"But he makes such a nice, soft pillow, " said the boy, once more burrowinghis hard little head into Hero's ribs. 

"He might snap at you if you tease him too much. I nevah saw him do it toany one, but nobody has evah teased him since he belonged to me. "

"Is he your dog?" asked Howl, in surprise. 

"Yes, " answered Lloyd, proudly. "He saved my life one time, and hismastah's anothah. And that medal on his collah was one that was given byFrance to his mastah fo' bravery, and the Majah gave it to him because hesaid that Hero had twice earned the right to wear it. "

"Tell about it, " demanded Howl, scenting a story. "How did he--" Hisquestion was stopped in the middle by Hero, who, determined to be nolonger used as a pillow, stood up and gave himself a mighty shake. Walkingover to the sofa piled with cushions, he took one in his mouth, andcarrying it back to Howl dropped it at his feet as if to say, "There! Usethat! I am no sofa pillow. " That done he stretched himself out again inthe farthest corner of the room, and laid his head on his paws with a sighof relief. 

"Oh! Oh!" cried the Little Colonel. "Did you evah see anything so sma'htas that in all yo' life? It's the brightest thing I evah saw a dog do. Hethought it all out, just like a person. I wish Papa Jack could have seenhim do it. I'm goin' to treat you to something nice fo' that, Hero. Waittill I run back up-stairs and get my purse. "

Anxious to make him do something else interesting, Howl still followed thedog. He tickled his paws, turned his ears back and blew in them andblindfolded him with a dirty handkerchief. 

Lloyd was gone longer than she intended, for she could not find her pursefor several minutes, and she stopped to tell her mother of Hero'sperformance with the sofa pillow. When she went into the parlour again, both boys were kneeling beside the dog. Their backs were toward the door, Henderson had brought the shawl-strap, and they were using it for thefurther discomfort of the patient old St. Bernard. 

"Here, Henny, you sit on his head, " commanded Howl, "and I'll buckle hishind feet to his fore feet, so that when he tries to walk he'll wabblearound and tip over. Won't that be funny?"

"Stop!" demanded Lloyd. "Don't you do that, Howl Sattawhite! I've told youenough times to stop teasing my dog. "

Howl only giggled in reply and drew the buckle tighter. There was a quickyelp of pain, and Hero, trying to pull away found himself fast by thefoot. 

Before Howl could rise from his knees, the Little Colonel had dartedacross the room, and seizing him by the shoulders, shook him till histeeth chattered. 

"There!" she said, giving him a final shake as she pushed him away. "Don'tyou evah lay a fingah on that dog again, as long as you live. If you doyou'll be sorry. I'll do something _awful_ to you!"

For the second time that afternoon her face was white with anger. Her eyesflashed so threateningly that Howl backed up against the wall, thoroughlyfrightened. Releasing Hero from the strap, she led him out of the room, and, with her hand laid protectingly on his collar, marched him out intothe street. 

"Those tawmentin' Sattawhites!" she grumbled, under her breath. "I wishthey were all shut up in jail, every one of them!"

But her anger died out as she walked on in the bright sunshine, watchingthe strange scenes around her with eager eyes. More than one head turnedadmiringly, as the daintily dressed little girl and the great St. Bernardpassed slowly down the broad boulevard. It seemed as if all the nurses andbabies in Touraine were out for an airing on the grass where the benchesstood, between the long double rows of trees. 

Once Lloyd stopped to peep through a doorway set in a high stone wall. Within the enclosure a group of girls, in the dark uniforms of a charityschool, walked sedately around, arm in arm, under the watchful eyes of theattendant nuns. Then some soldiers passed on foot, and a little whileafter, some more dashed by on horseback, and she remembered that Tours wasthe headquarters of the Ninth Army corps, and that she might expect tomeet them often. 

Not till the tolling of the great cathedral bell reminded her that it wastime to go back to the hotel, did she think again of Howl and Kenny andFidelia. By that time her walk had put her into such a pleasant frame ofmind, that she could think of them without annoyance. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

WITH BETTY AND EUGENIA

When the Little Colonel reached the hotel, the omnibus was leaving thedoor to go to the railroad station, a few blocks away. Thinking that Bettyand Eugenia might be on the coming train, she went into the parlour towait for the return of the omnibus. She had bought a box of chocolatecreams at the cake shop on the corner to divide with Hero. 

Fidelia had wandered down to the parlour in her absence, and now seated atthe old piano was banging on its yellow keys with all her might. Sheplayed unusually well for a girl of her age, but Lloyd had a feeling thata public parlour was not a place to show off one's accomplishments, andher nose went up a trifle scornfully as she entered. 

Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the mantel, and herexpression changed instantly. 

"For mercy sakes!" she said to herself. "I look like one of the proud andhaughty sistahs in 'Cindahella, ' as if I thought the earth wasn't goodenough for me to step on. It certainly isn't becoming, and it would makeme furious if anybody looked at me in such a cool, scornful way. I knowthat I feel that way inside whenevah I talk to Fidelia. I wondah if shesees it in my face, and that's what makes her cross and scratchy, like acat that has had its fur rubbed the wrong way. Just for fun I believe I'llpretend to myself for ten minutes that I love her deahly, and I'll smilewhen I talk to her, just as if she were Betty, and nevah pay any attentionto her mean speeches. I'll give her this one chance. Then if she keeps onbein' hateful, I'll nevah have anything moah to do with her again. "

So while Fidelia played on toward the end of the waltz, purposelyregardless of Lloyd's presence, Lloyd, sitting behind her, looked into themirror, and practised making pleasant faces for Fidelia's benefit. 

The music came to a close with a loud double bang that made Lloyd start upfrom her chair with a guilty flush, fearing that she had been caught ather peculiar occupation. Before Fidelia could say anything, Lloyd walkedover to her with the friendliest of her practised smiles, and held out thebox of chocolate creams. 

"Take some, " she said. "They are the best I've had since I left Kentucky. "

"Thanks, " said Fidelia, stiffly, screwing around on the piano-stool, andhelping herself to just one. But feeling the warmth of Lloyd's cordialtone, urging her to take more, she thawed into smiling friendliness, andtook several. "They are delicious!" she exclaimed. "You got them at thecake shop on the corner, didn't you? There are two awfully nice Americangirls stopping at this hotel who took me in there one day for some. They've been in Kentucky, too. The one named Elizabeth lives there. "

"Why, it must be Betty and Eugenia!" cried Lloyd. "The very girls we camehere to meet. Do _you_ know them?"

"Not very well. We've only been here a few days. But I dearly love the oneyou call Betty. She came into my room one night when I had the tooth-ache, and brought a spice poultice and a hot-water bag. Mamma was at a concert, and Fanchette was cross, and I was so miserable and lonesome I wanted todie. But Elizabeth knew exactly what to do to stop the pain, and then shestayed and talked to me for a long time. She told me about a house partyshe went to last year, where the girls all caught the measles at a gypsycamp, and she nearly went blind on account of it. "

"That was _my_ house pahty, " exclaimed the Little Colonel, "and my mothahis Betty's godmothah, and Betty is goin' to live at my house all nextwintah, and go to school with me. "

Fidelia swung farther around on the piano-stool, and faced Lloyd insurprise. "And are _you_ the Little Colonel!" she cried. "From whatElizabeth said, I thought she was pretty near an angel!" Fidelia's toneimplied more plainly than her words that she wondered how Betty couldthink so. 

A cutting reply was on the tip of Lloyd's tongue, but the sight of herface in the mirror checked it. She only said, pleasantly, "Betty iscertainly the loveliest girl in the world, and--"

"There she is now!" interrupted Fidelia, nodding toward the door as voicessounded in the hall and footsteps came out from the office. 

"Oh, they'll be so surprised!" said Lloyd, looking back with a radiantface as she ran toward the door. "We came two whole days earlier than theyexpected!"

Fidelia heard the joyful greeting, the chorus of surprised exclamations asLloyd flew first at Betty, then at Eugenia, with a hug and a kiss, thenturned to greet her Cousin Carl. 

"Betty will never look at me again, " Fidelia thought, with a throb ofjealousy, turning away from the sight of their happy meeting, andbeginning to strike soft aimless chords on the piano. "I wish I were oneof them, " she whispered, with the tears springing to her eyes. "I hate tobe always on the edge of things, and never in them. We never stay in aplace long enough at a time to make any real friends or have any goodtimes. "

Chattering and laughing, and asking eager questions, the girls hurried upthe stairs to Mrs. Sherman's room. Almost a year had gone by since Eugeniaand Lloyd had parted on the lantern decked lawn at Locust, the last nightof the house party. The year had made little difference in Lloyd, butEugenia had grown so tall that the change was startling. 

"Really, you are taller than I, " exclaimed Mrs. Sherman, in the midst ofan affectionate greeting, as she held her off for a better view. 

"And doesn't she look stylish and young ladyfied, with her skirts down toher ankles, " added Lloyd. "You'd nevah think that she was only fifteen, would you?"

"I had to have them made long, " explained Eugenia, much flattered byLloyd's speech. It was her greatest wish to appear "grown up. " "Papa saysthat I am probably as tall now as I shall ever be, and really I'd lookridiculous with my dresses any shorter. "

Mrs. Sherman noticed presently, with a smile, that Eugenia seemed to havegained dignity with her added height. There was something amusinglypatronising in her manner toward the younger girls. She answered Lloydseveral times with an "Oh, no, child" that was almost grandmotherly in itstone. 

"But here is somebody who has come back just as sweet and childlike asever, " thought Mrs. Sherman, twisting one of Betty's brown curls aroundher finger. Then she said aloud. "Was the trip as delightful as youdreamed it would be, my little Tusitala?"

"Oh, _yes_, godmother, " sighed Betty, blissfully. "It was a thousand timesbetter! And the best of it is my eyes are as well as ever. I needn't beafraid, now, of that 'long night' that haunted me like a bad dream. "

All during dinner Fidelia kept looking across at the merry party sittingat the next table, and wished she could be with them. She could not helphearing all they said, for they were only a few feet away, and there wasno one talking at the table where she sat. The boys were in the children'sdining-room with Fanchette, and her mother was spending the evening withsome friends at the new hotel across the way. 

"I'm going to make believe that I'm one of them, " the lonely child said toherself, smiling as she caught a friendly nod from Betty. So she listenedeagerly to Mr. Forbes's account of their visit to Venice, and to thevolcano of Vesuvius, and laughed with the others over the amusingexperiences Betty and Eugenia had in Norway with a chambermaid who couldnot understand them, and in Holland with an old Dutch market-woman, theday they became separated from Mr. Forbes, and were lost for severalhours. 

Fidelia's salad almost choked her, there was such an ache in her throatwhen she heard them planning an excursion for the next day. She had no oneto make plans with, and when she was taken sightseeing it was by a Frenchteacher, more intent on improving her pupil's accent than in giving her ahappy time. 

As they were finishing their dessert, Mr. Sherman suddenly remembered thathe had a letter in his pocket for Lloyd, which he had forgotten to giveher. 

"It is from Joyce, " she said, looking at the post-mark. "Oh, if she wereonly heah, what a lovely time we could have! It would be like havin'anothah house pahty. May I read it now at the table, mothah? It is to allof us. "

Fidelia almost held her breath. She was so afraid that Mrs. Sherman wouldsuggest waiting until they went to the parlour. There she could no longerbe one of them, no matter how hard she might pretend. She wanted theinteresting play to go on as long as possible. She did not know that sheought not to listen. There were many things she had never been taught. Lloyd began to read aloud. 

 "DEAR GIRLS:--You will be in Tours by the time this letter reaches you, and I am simply wild to be there with you. Oh, if I could be there only one day to take you to all the old places! Do please go to the home of the 'Little Sisters of the Poor, ' and ask for Sister Denisa. Give her my love, and tell her that I often think of her. And do go to that funny pie shop on the Rue Nationale, where everybody is allowed to walk around and help themselves and keep their own count. And eat one of those tiny delicious tarts for me. They're the best in the world. 

 "I can't think of anything else to-day, but that walk which you will be taking soon without me. I can shut my eyes and see every inch of the way, as it used to look when we went home just after sunset. There is the river Loire all rosy red in the after-glow, and the bridge with the soldiers marching across it; and on the other side of the river is the little old village of St. Symphorian with its narrow, crooked streets. How I love every old cobblestone! You will see the fat old women rattling home in their market carts, and hear the clang and click of wooden shoes down the streets. Then there'll be the high gate of customs in the old stone wall that fences in the village, and the country road beyond. You'll climb the hill with the new moon coming up behind the tall Lombardy poplars, and go on between the fields, turning brown in the twilight, till the Gate of the Giant Scissors looms up beside the road like a picture out of some fairy tale. A little farther on you'll come to Madame's dear old villa with the high wall around it, and the laurel hedges and lime-trees inside. 

 "I wonder which of you will have my room with the blue parrots on the wall-paper. Oh, I'm _homesick_ to go back. Yet, isn't it strange, when I was there I used to long so for America, that many a time I climbed up in the pear-tree at the end of the garden for a good cry. Don't forget to swing up into that pear-tree. There's a fine view from the top. 

 "When you see Jules, ask him to show you the goats that chewed up the cushions of the pony cart, the day we had our Thanksgiving barbecue in the garden. I fairly ache to be with you. Please write me a good long letter and tell me what you are doing; and whenever you hear the nightingales in Madame's garden, and the cathedral bells tolling out across the Loire, think of your loving JOYCE. "

"Let's do those things to-morrow, " exclaimed Lloyd, as she folded theletter and slipped it back into its envelope. "I don't want to waste timeon any old châteaux with the Gate of the Giant Scissors just across theriver, that we haven't seen yet. "

"I have heard about that gate ever since we left America, " said Mr. Forbes, laughingly. "Nobody has taken the trouble to inform me why it isso important, or why it was selected for a meeting-place. Somebody owes mean explanation. "

"It's only an old gate with a mammoth pair of scissors swung on amedallion above it, " said Mr. Sherman. "They were put there by ahalf-crazy old man who built the place, by the name of _Ciseaux_. JoyceWare spent a winter in sight of it, and she came back with some wonderfultale about the scissors being the property of a prince who went arounddoing all sorts of impossible things with them. I believe the girls haveactually come to think that the scissors are enchanted. "

"Oh, Papa Jack, stop teasin'!" said the Little Colonel. "You know wedon't!"

"If it is really settled that we are to go there to-morrow, I want to hearthe story, " said Cousin Carl. "I make a practice of reading the history ofa place before I visit it, so I'll have to know the story of the gate inorder to take a proper interest in it. "

"Come into the parlour, " said Mrs. Sherman rising. "Betty will tell us. "

As she turned, she saw Fidelia looking after the girls with wistful eyes, and she read the longing and loneliness in her face. 

"Wouldn't you like to come too, and hear the fairy tale with us?" sheasked, kindly holding out her hand. 

A look of happy surprise came over Fidelia's face, and before she couldstammer out her acceptance of the unlooked-for invitation, Mrs. Shermandrew her toward her and led her into the little circle in one corner ofthe parlour. 

"Now, we are ready, Tusitala, " said Mrs. Sherman, settling herself on thesofa, with Fidelia beside her. Shaking back her brown curls, Betty beganthe fairy tale that Joyce's Cousin Kate had told one bleak November day, to make the homesick child forget that she was "a stranger in a strangeland. "

"Once upon a time, in a far island of the sea, there lived a king withseven sons. "

Word for word as she had heard it, Betty told the adventures of theprinces ("the three that were dark and the three that were fair"), andthen of the middle son, Prince Ethelried, to whom the old king gave noportion of his kingdom. With no sword, nothing but the scissors of theCourt Tailor, he had been sent out into the world to make his fortune. Even Cousin Carl listened with close attention to the prince's adventureswith the Ogre, in which he was victorious, because the grateful fairy whomhe had rescued laid on the scissors a magic spell. 

"Here, " she said, giving them into his hands again, "because thou wastpersevering and fearless in setting me free, these shall win for thee thyheart's desire. But remember that thou canst not keep them sharp andshining unless they are used at least once each day in some unselfishservice. " After that he had only to utter his request in rhyme, andimmediately they would shoot out to an enormous size that could cut downforests for him, bridge chasms, and reap whole wheat fields at a singlestroke. 

Many a peasant he befriended, shepherds and high-born dames, lords andlowly beggars; and at the last, when he stood up before the Ogre to fightfor the beautiful princess kept captive in the tower, it was their voices, shouting out their tale of gratitude to him for all these unselfishservices, that made the scissors grow long enough and strong enough to cutthe ugly old Ogre's head off. 

"So he married the princess, " concluded Betty at last, "and came into thekingdom that was his heart's desire. There was feasting and merrymakingfor seventy days and seventy nights, and they all lived happily everafter. On each gable of the house he fastened a pair of shining scissorsto remind himself that only through unselfish service to others comes thehappiness that is highest and best. Over the great entrance gate he hungthe ones that served him so valiantly, saying, 'Only those who belong tothe kingdom of loving hearts can ever enter here'; and to this day theyguard the portal of Ethelried, and only those who belong to the kingdom ofloving hearts may enter the Gate of the Giant Scissors. "

"Go on, " said Mr. Forbes, as Betty stopped. "What happened next? I want tohear some more. "

"So did Joyce, " said Betty. "She used to climb up in the pear-tree andwatch the gate, wishing she knew what lay behind it, and one day she foundout. A poor little boy lived there with only the care-taker and anotherservant. The care-taker beat him and half starved him. His uncle didn'tknow how he was treated, for he was away in Algiers. Joyce found thislittle Jules out in the fields one day, tending the goats, and they got tobe great friends She told him this story, and they played that he was theprince and she was the Giant Scissors who was to rescue him from theclutches of the Ogre. She made up a rhyme for him to say. He had only towhisper:

 "'Giant Scissors, fearless friend, Hasten, pray, thy aid to lend, '

and she would fly to help him. She really did, too, for she played ghostone night to frighten the old care-taker, and she told Jules's uncle, whenhe came back, how cruelly the poor little thing had been treated. 

"Then the little prince really did come into his kingdom, for all sorts oflovely things happened after that. The gate had been closed for years onaccount of a terrible quarrel in the Ciseaux family, but at last somethingJoyce did helped to make it up. The gate swung open, and the oldwhite-haired brother and sister went back to the home of their childhoodtogether, and it was Christmas Day in the morning. They had been kept fromgoing through the gate all those years, because the Giant Scissorswouldn't let them pass. Only those who belong to the kingdom of lovinghearts can enter in. "

"Some day you must put that all in a book, Betty, " said Cousin Carl, whenshe had finished. "When we go to see the gate, I'll take my camera, andwe'll get a picture of it. Now I feel that I can properly appreciate it, having heard its wonderful history. "

There was a teasing light in his eyes that made Lloyd say, "Now you'relaughin' at us, Cousin Carl, but it doesn't make any difference. I'drathah see that gate than any old château in France. "

CHAPTER IX. 

AT THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS

Each of the girls answered Joyce's letter, but the Little Colonel's wasthe first to find its way to the little brown house in Plainsville, Kansas. 

"Dear Joyce, " she wrote. "We were all dreadfully disappointed yesterdaymorning when mother and Papa Jack came back from Madame's villa, and toldus that she could not let us stay there. She has some English people inthe house, and could not give us rooms even for one night. She said thatwe must be disappointed also about seeing Jules, for his Uncle Martin hastaken him to Paris to stay a month. I could have cried, I was so sorry. 

"Ever since we left home I have been planning what we should do when wereached the Gate of the Giant Scissors. I wanted to do all the things thatyou did, as far as possible. I was going to have a barbecue for Jules, down in the garden by the pagoda, and to have some kind of a midsummerfête for the peasant children who came to your Christmas tree. 

"Madame was sorry, too, that she couldn't take us, when she found that wewere your friends, and she asked mother to bring us all out the next dayand have tea in the pagoda. As soon as mother and Papa Jack came back, they took us to see Sister Denisa at the home of the Little Sisters of thePoor. I wish you could have seen her face shine when we told her that wewere friends of yours. She said lovely things about you, and the tearscame into her eyes when she told us how much she missed your visits, afteryou went back to America. 

"Next day we went to Madame's, and she took us over to the Ciseaux placeto see Jules's great-aunt Désirée. She is a beautiful old lady. She talkedabout you as if you were an angel, or a saint with a halo around yourhead. She feels that if it hadn't been for you that she might still beonly 'Number Thirty-nine' among all those paupers, instead of being themistress of her brother's comfortable home. 

"After we left there, we passed the place where Madame's washerwomanlives. A little girl peeped out at us through the hedge. Madame told herto show the American ladies the doll that she had in her arms. She held itout, and then snatched it back as if she were jealous of our even lookingat it. Madame told us that it was the one you gave her at the Noel fête. It is the only doll the child ever had, and she has carried it ever since, even taking it to bed with her. She has named it for you. 

"Madame said in her funny broken English, 'Ah, it is a beautiful thing toleave such memories behind one as Mademoiselle Joyce has left. ' I wouldhave told her about the Road of the Loving Heart, but it is so hard forher to understand anything I say. I think you began yours over here inFrance, long before Betty told us of the one in Samoa, or Eugenia gave usthe rings to help us remember. 

"We took Fidelia Sattawhite with us. She is the girl I wrote to you aboutwho was so rude to me, and who quarrelled so much with her brothers onshipboard. I thought it would spoil everything to have her along, butmother insisted on my inviting her. She feels sorry for her. Fidelia actedvery well until we went over to the Ciseaux place. But when we got to thegate she stood and looked up at the scissors over it, and refused to goin. Madame and mother both coaxed and coaxed her, but she was too queerfor anything. She wouldn't move a step. She just stood there in the road, saying, 'No'm, I won't go in. I don't want to. I'll stay out here and waitfor you. No'm, nothing anybody can say can make me go in. '

"Down she sat on the grass as flat as Humpty Dumpty when he had his greatfall, and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't have madeher get up till she was ready. We couldn't understand why she should actso. She told Betty that night that she was afraid to go through the gate. She remembered that in the story where the old king and the brothers ofEthelried came riding up to the portal 'the scissors leaped from theirplace and snapped so angrily in their faces that they turned and fled. Only those who belong to the kingdom of loving hearts could enter in. ' Shetold Betty that she knew she didn't belong to that kingdom, for nobodyloved her, and often she didn't love anybody for days. She was afraid togo through the gate for fear the scissors would leap down at her, and shewould be so ashamed to be driven back before us all. So she thought shewould pretend that she didn't want to go in. She had believed every wordof that fairy tale. 

"We had a beautiful time in the garden. We went down all the winding pathsbetween the high laurel hedges where you used to walk, and almost gotlost, they had so many unexpected twists and turns. The old statues ofAdam and Eve, grinning at each other across the fountain, are so funny. Wesaw the salad beds with the great glass bells over them, and we climbedinto the pear-tree and sat looking over the wall, wondering how you couldhave been homesick in such an interesting place. 

"Berthé served tea in the pagoda, and because we asked about Gabriel'smusic, Madame smiled and sent Berthé away with a message. Pretty soon weheard his old accordeon playing away, out of sight in the coach-house, andthen we knew what kind of music you had at the Noel fête. Sort of wheezy, wasn't it? Still it sounded sweet, too, at that distance. 

"We took Hero with us, and he was really the guest of honour at the party. When Madame saw the Red Cross on his collar and heard his history, shecouldn't do enough for him. She fed him cakes until I thought he surelywould be ill. It was a Red Cross nurse who wrote to Madame about herhusband. He was wounded in the Franco-Prussian war, too, just as was theMajor. Madame went on to get him and bring him home, and she says shenever can forget the kindness that was shown to her by every one whom shemet when she crossed the lines under the protection of the Red Cross. 

"She had met Clara Barton, too, and while we were talking about the goodshe has done, Madame said, 'The Duchess of Baden may have sent her theGold Cross of Remembrance, but the grateful hearts of many a French wifeand mother will for ever hold the rosary of her beautiful deeds!' Wasn'tthat a lovely thing to have said about one?

"We start to London Thursday, and I'll write again from there. With muchlove from us all, Lloyd. "

The long letter which Lloyd folded and addressed after a carefulre-reading, had not been all written in one day. She had begun it whilewaiting for the others to finish dressing one morning, had added a fewpages that afternoon, and finished it the next evening at bedtime. 

"Heah is my lettah to Joyce, mothah, " she said, as she kissed her goodnight. "Won't you look ovah it, please, and see if all the words arespelled right? I want to send it in the mawnin. "

Mrs. Sherman laid the letter aside to attend to later, and forgot it untillong after Lloyd was asleep, and Mr. Sherman had come up-stairs. Then, seeing it on the table, she glanced rapidly over the neatly written pages. 

"I want you to look at this, Jack, " she said, presently, handing him theletter. "It is one of the results of the house party for which I am mostthankful. You remember what a task it always was for Lloyd to write aletter. She groaned for days whenever she received one, because it had tobe answered. But when Joyce went away she said, 'Now, Lloyd, I know Ishall be homesick for Locust, and I want to hear every single thing thathappens. Don't you dare send me a stingy two-page letter, half of itapologising for not writing sooner, and half of it promising to do betternext time. 

"'Just prop my picture up in front of you and look me in the eyes andbegin to talk. Tell me all the little things that most people leave out;what he said and she said on the way to the picnic, and how Betty lookedin her daffodil dress, with the sun shining on her brown curls. Write asif you were making pictures for me, so that when I read I can seeeverything you are doing. '

"It was excellent advice, and as Joyce's letters were written in that way, Lloyd had a good model to copy. Joyce, being an artist, naturally makespictures even of her letters. When Betty went away and began sending homesuch well-written accounts of her journey, I found that Lloyd's styleimproved constantly. She wrote a dear little letter to the Major, lastweek, telling all about Hero. I was surprised to see how prettily sheexpressed her appreciation of his gift. "

Mr. Sherman took the letter and began to read. In two places he correcteda misspelled word, and here and there supplied missing commas andquotation marks. There was a gratified smile on his face when he finished. "That is certainly a lengthy letter for a twelve-year-old girl to write, "he said, in a pleased tone, "and cannot fail to be interesting to Joyce. The letters she wrote me from the Cuckoo's Nest were stiff, short scrawlscompared to this. I must tell my Little Colonel how proud I am of herimprovement. "

His words of praise were not spoken, however. He expressed hisappreciation, later, by leaving on her table a box of foreigncorrespondence paper. It was of the best quality he could find in Tours, and to Lloyd's delight the monogram engraved on it was even prettier thanEugenia's. 

"Why did Papa Jack write this on the first sheet in the box, mothah?" sheasked, coming to her with a sentence written in her father's big, businesslike hand: '_There is no surer way to build a Road of the LovingHeart in the memory of absent friends, than to bridge the space betweenwith the cheer and sympathy and good-will of friendly letters. _'

"Why did Papa Jack write that?" she repeated. 

"Because he saw your last letter to Joyce, and was so pleased with theimprovement you have made, " answered Mrs. Sherman. "He has given you agood text for your writing-desk. "

"I'll paste it in the top, " said Lloyd. "Then I can't lose it. " "'There isno surer way, '" she repeated to herself as she carried the box back to herroom, "'to bridge the space between . . . With the cheer and sympathy andgood-will. '"

There flashed across her mind the thought of some one who needed cheer andsympathy far more than Joyce did, and who would welcome a friendly letterfrom her with its foreign stamp, as eagerly as if it were some realtreasure. Jessie Nolan was the girl she thought of, an invalid with acrippled spine, to whom the dull days in her wheeled chair by the windowseemed endless, and who had so little to brighten her monotonous life. 

"I'll write her a note this minute, " thought Lloyd, with a warm glow inher heart. "I'll describe some of the sights we have seen, and send herthat fo' leafed clovah that I found at the château yestahday, undah awindow of the great hall where Anne of Brittany was married ovah fo'hundred yeahs ago. I don't suppose Jessie gets a lettah once a yeah. "

When that note was written, Lloyd thought of Mom Beck and the pride thatwould shine in the face of her old black nurse if she should receive aletter from Europe, and how proudly it would be carried around anddisplayed to all the coloured people in the Valley. So with the kindlyimpulse of her father's text still upon her, she dashed off a note to her, telling her of some of her visits to the palaces of bygone kings andqueens. 

Eugenia came in as she finished, but before she closed her desk she jottedtwo names on a slip of paper. Mrs. Waters's was one. She was a little oldEnglishwoman, who did fine laundry work in the Valley, and who was alwaystalking about the 'awthorne' edges in her old English home. 

"I'll write to her from London, " Lloyd thought. "If we should get a sightof any of the royal family, how tickled she would be to hear it. "

The other name was Janet McDonald. She was a sad, sweet-faced youngteacher whom Miss Allison always called her "Scotch lassie Jane. " "I don'tsuppose she'd care to get a letter from a little girl like me, " thoughtLloyd, "but I know she'd love to have a piece of heather from the hillsnear her home. I'll send her a piece when we get up in Scotland. "

The letter that Eugenia sent to Joyce was only a short outline of herplans. She knew that the other girls had sent long accounts of their tripthrough Touraine, so hers was much shorter than usual. 

 "Papa has decided to send me to a school just outside of Paris this year, " she wrote, "instead of the one in New York, so it will be a long time before I see my native land again. He will have to be over here several months, and can spend Christmas and Easter with me, so I can see him fully as often as I used to at home. 

 "It is a very select school. Madame recommends it highly, and I am simply delighted. A New York girl whom I know very well is to be there too, and we are looking forward to all sorts of larks. Thursday we are to start to London for a short tour of England and Scotland. Then the others are going home and papa and I shall go by Chester for my maid. Poor old Eliot has had a glorious vacation at home, she writes. She is to stay at the school with me. We shall be so busy until I get settled that I shall not have time to write soon; but no matter how far my letters may be apart, I am always your devoted EUGENIA. "

CHAPTER X. 

ON THE WING

"Who is going away?" asked Lloyd, one afternoon, of the girls who weresitting in her room, manicuring their nails. "There goes a pile of trunksout to the baggage wagon. "

As she spoke, a carriage drove up to the door of the hotel, and Fanchettewent out with the poodle in her arms. 

"The Sattawhites, " answered Eugenia. "There's Howl and Henny climbing intothe carriage, and, oh, look, girls! There comes Mrs. Sattawhite herself. Ihaven't had many glimpses of her. Isn't she gorgeous! You know they had toleave, " she continued, turning to the girls. "I forgot to tell you whathappened early this morning while you were down-town. 

"I was up in my room writing to Joyce, when I heard a rumble and a runningdown in the back hall. Somebody called 'Fire! Fire!' Then somebody elsetook it up, and the old gentleman at the end of the hall, who neverappears in public until noon, came bursting out of his room in his bathrobe, his shoes in one hand and his false teeth in the other. It was thefunniest sight! There was wild excitement for a few minutes. One womanbegan throwing things out of the window, and another stood and shriekedand wrung her hands. 

"The waiter with the long black side-whiskers tore up-stairs and grabbedhis arms full of those bottles in the racks--you know--thosefire-extinguishing bottles that have some kind of chemical stuff in them. There was a strong smell of smoke and a little puff of it curling up fromunder the stairs. He threw all those bottles down into the lower hall. Youcan imagine the smash there was when they struck the stone floor. 

"Papa rushed down to investigate, at the first alarm. He found that it wasonly Howl and Henny playing hook-and-ladder with a little red wagon. Theyhad taken an old flannel blouse of Kenny's and set fire to it. Howlexplained that they did it because woollen rags make such a nice thicksmoke, and last a long time, and when they yelled fire they were not toblame, he said, if other people didn't know that they were 'jes'a-playin', and went and yelled in earnest. '

"Papa took their part, and said that two boys with as much energy as theyhave must find an outlet somewhere, and that it was no wonder that theywere restless, cooped up in a hotel day after day, with no amusement buttheir prim walks with the maid and the poodle. But the old gentleman whohad been so frightened that he ran out in public without his teeth, andthe woman who had thrown her toilet bottles out of the window and brokenthem, were furious. They complained to the landlord, and said that it wasnot the first offence. The boys were always annoying them. 

"So the landlord had to go to Mrs. Sattawhite. She found out what the oldgentleman said, that a mother who had to go travelling around all overEurope, giving her time and attention to society and a miserable poodle, had better put her children in an orphan asylum before she started. Shewas so indignant that I could hear her talking away down in the office. She said that she would leave the instant that Fanchette could get thetrunks packed. So there they go. "

Mrs. Sattawhite had sailed back to the office during the telling ofEugenia's story, so their departure was delayed a moment. When she cameout again, Fidelia followed her sulkily. Just as they drove off, shelooked up at the open window, and saw the girls, who were waving good-bye. Then a smile flickered across her sorry little face, for, moved by somesudden impulse, the Little Colonel leaned out and threw her a kiss. 

"I suppose I'll nevah see her again, " she said, thoughtfully, as thecarriage rolled around a corner, out of sight. "I wish now that I had beenniceah to her. We may both change evah so much by the time we are grown, yet if I live to be a hundred I'll always think of her as the girl who wasso quarrelsome that the English lady groaned, 'Oh, those dreadful Americanchildren!' And I suppose she'll remembah me for the high and mighty way Itried to snub her whenevah I had a chance. "

As she spoke there was a knock at the door, and a maid brought in apackage for Lloyd. "Oh, look, girls!" she exclaimed, holding up a tinypair of silver embroidery scissors, Fidelia's parting gift They wereevidently something that had been given her, for the little silver sheathinto which they were thrust was beautifully engraved in old Englishletters with the name "_Fidelia_. " Around them was wrapped a strip ofrumpled paper on which was scrawled: "For you to remember me by. That dayyou took me to the Gate of the Giant Scissors was the best time I everhad. "

"Poor little thing!" exclaimed Betty. "To think that she was afraid to goin, for fear that she didn't belong to the kingdom, and that the scissorsmight leap down and drive her back. "

"Oh, if I had only known!" sighed Lloyd, remorsefully. "I feel too meanfor anything! If I'd only believed that it was because she hadn't beenbrought up to know any bettah that she acted so horrid, and that all thetime she really wanted to be liked! Mothah told me I ought to put myselfin her place, and make allowances for her, but I didn't want to even try, and I nevah was nice to her but once--that time I gave her the candy. ThenI was only pretendin' I cared for her, just for fun. I didn't want her togo with us to the Scissahs gate that day. Mothah made me invite her. Ifussed about it. I'm goin' to write to her the minute I finish polishin'my nails, and tell her how sorry I am that I didn't leave a kindah memorybehind me. "

They rubbed away in silence for a few minutes, then Lloyd spoke again. "Isuahly have enough things now to remind me about the memory roads I amtryin' to leave behind me for everybody. Every time I look at this littlering it says 'A Road of the Loving Heart. ' And the scissahs will recallthe fairy tale. It was only unselfish service that kept them bright andshining, and only those who belonged to the kingdom of loving hearts couldgo in at the gate. Then there's the Red Cross of Geneva on Hero'scollah--there couldn't be a moah beautiful memory than the one left by allwho have wo'n that Red Cross. "

"Yes, " said Betty, holding up a hand to inspect the pink finger nails nowpolished to her satisfaction. "And there is the white flower that the twolittle Knights of Kentucky wear. Keith said that his badge meant the samething to him that my ring does to me. Their motto is 'Right the wrong. 'That's what the Giant Scissors always did, and that's what Robert LouisStevenson tried to do for the Samoan chiefs. That is why they loved himand built the road. "

"Funny, how they all sing the same song, " said Eugenia. "It's just thesame, only they sing it in different keys. "

After Betty and Eugenia had gone to their rooms, Lloyd sat a long timetoying with the silver scissors, before writing her note ofacknowledgment. The sheath was of hammered silver, and around the name wasa beautifully wrought design of tiny clustered grapes. 

"It is one of the prettiest things that my wondah-ball has unrolled, " shesaid to herself, "and it has certainly taught me a lesson. Poah littleFidelia! If I'd only known that she cared, there were lots of times thatshe could have gone with us, and it would have made her so happy. If I hadonly put myself in her place when mothah told me! But I was so cross andhateful I enjoyed bein' selfish. Now all the bein' sorry in the worldwon't change things!"

It would be too much like a guide-book if this story were to give a recordof the next two weeks. Betty's good-times book was filled, down to thelast line on the last page, and the partnership diary had to have severalextra leaves pasted inside the cover. From morning until night there was aconstant round of sightseeing. The shops and streets of London first, theAbbey and the Tower, a hundred places that they had read about and longedto see, and after they had seen, longed to come back to for another visit. 

"We can only take a bird's-eye view now and hurry on, but we mustcertainly come back some other summer, " said Mr. Sherman, when Lloydwanted to linger in the Tower of London among the armour and weapons thathad been worn by the old knights, centuries ago. He repeated it when Bettylooked back longingly at the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey, wherethe great organ was echoing down the solemn aisles, and again when Eugeniabegged for another coach ride out to Hampton Court. 

 "'Gay go up and gay go down To ring the bells of London town, "

sang the Little Colonel. "I am having such a good time that I'd like tostay on right heah all the rest of the summah. "

But she thought that about nearly every other place they visited, Windsor, and Warwick Castle, and Shakespeare's birthplace, --the quaint littlevillage on the Avon; Ambleside, where they took the coach for long ridesamong the lakes made famous by the poets who lived among them and madethem immortal with their songs. 

From these English lakes to Scottish moors, from the land of hawthorne tothe land of heather, from low green meadows where the larks sang, to thehighlands where plaided shepherds watched their flocks, they went withenthusiasm that never waned. They found the "banks and braes o' BonnieDoon, " and wandered along the banks of more than one little river thatthey had loved for years in song and story. 

"Haven't we learned a lot!" exclaimed Eugenia, as they journeyed back byrail to Liverpool, where the Shermans and Betty were to take the steamer. "I'm sure that I've learned ten times as much as I would in school, thislast year. "

"And had such a lovely time in the bargain, " added Lloyd. "It's goin' tomake a difference in the way I study this wintah, and in what I read. Ifwe evah come ovah heah again, I intend to know something about Englishhistory. Then the places we visit will be so much moah interestin'. I'llnot spend so much time on fairy tales and magazine stories. I'm goin' tomake my reading count for something aftah this. It was dreadfullymawtifyin' to find out that I was so ignorant, and how much there is inthe world to know, that I had nevah even heard of. "

That afternoon, in the big Liverpool hotel, the trunks were packed for thelast time. 

"Seems something like the night befo' Christmas, " said the Little Colonel, as she counted the packages piled on the floor beside her trunk. They werethe presents that she had chosen for the friends at home. 

"Nineteen, twenty, " she went on counting, "and that music box for Mom Beckmakes twenty-one, and the souvenir spoons for the Walton girls maketwenty-five. Oh, I didn't show you these, " she said. 

"This is Allison's, " she explained, opening a little box. "See the caldronand the bells on the handle? I got this in Denmark. That's from Andersen'stale of the swineherd's magic kettle, you know. Kitty's is from TamO'Shanter's town. That's why there is a witch and a broomstick engraved onit. This spoon for Elise came from Berne. I think that's a darling littlebear's head on the handle. What did you get, Betty?" she continued, turning to her suddenly. "You haven't shown me a single thing. "

Betty laid down the spoons she was admiring. "You'll not think they areworth carrying home, " she said, slowly. "I couldn't buy handsome presentslike yours, you know, so I just picked up little things here and there, that wouldn't be worth anything at all if they hadn't come from famousplaces. "

"Show them to me, anyhow, " persisted Lloyd. 

Betty untied a small box. "It's only a handful of lava, " she explained, "that I picked up on Vesuvius. But Davy will like it because he thinks avolcano is such a wonderful thing. Here are some pebbles the boys will beinterested in, because I found them on the field of Waterloo. They aremaking collections of such things, and Waterloo is a long way from theCuckoo's Nest. They haven't any foreign things at all. 

"I wanted to take something nice to Miss Allison, but I couldn't afford tobuy anything fine enough. So I just pressed these buttercups that grew bythe gate of Anne Hathaway's cottage. See how sunshiny and satiny they are?Cousin Carl gave me a photograph of the cottage, and I fastened thebuttercups here on the side. I couldn't offer such a little gift to somepeople, but Miss Allison is the kind that appreciates the thought thatprompts a gift more than the thing itself. "

There were a few more photographs, a handkerchief for Mom Beck, and astring of cheap Venetian beads for May Lily. The most expensive article inthe collection was a little mosaic pin for her Cousin Hetty. "I got thatin Venice, " said Betty. "Cousin Hetty hasn't a single piece of jewelry toher name, and she never gets any presents but plain, useful things, so Iam sure she will be pleased. "

Lloyd turned away, thinking of the great contrast between her gifts andBetty's, and wishing that she had not made such a display of hers. 

"If I were in Betty's place, " she said to herself, "I'd be so jealous ofme that I could hardly stand it. She's just a little orphan alone in theworld, and I have mothah and Papa Jack and Hero and Tarbaby for my veryown. "

But the Little Colonel need not have wasted any sympathy on Betty. Whileone stowed away her expensive presents in her trunk, the other wrapped upher little souvenirs, humming softly to herself. It would have been hardto find anywhere in the queen's dominion, a happier child than Betty, asshe sat beside her trunk, thinking of the beautiful journey with CousinCarl, just ending, and the life awaiting her at Locust with her godmotherand the Little Colonel. There was only one cloud on her horizon, and thatwas the parting with Eugenia and her father. 

That last evening they spent together in the private parlour adjoiningMrs. Sherman's room. Early after dinner Lloyd and her father went down topay a visit to Hero, and see that he was properly cared for. He had had ahard time since reaching England, for the laws regarding the quarantiningof dogs are strict, and it had taken many shillings on Mr. Sherman's partand some tears on the Little Colonel's to procure him the privileges hehad. 

"The whole party will be glad when he is safely landed in Kentucky, I amsure, " said Mrs. Sherman, as the door closed after them. "I'd neverconsent to take another dog on such a journey, after all the trouble andexpense this one has been. Lloyd is so devoted to him that she isheartbroken if he has to be tied up or made uncomfortable in any way. She'll probably come up-stairs in tears to-night because he wants tofollow her, and must be kept a prisoner. "

While they waited for her return, Mrs. Sherman drew Eugenia into her roomfor a last confidential talk, and Betty, nestling beside Cousin Carl onthe sofa, tried to thank him for all his fatherly kindness to her on theirlong pilgrimage together. But he would not let her put her gratitude inwords. His answer was the same that it had been that last night of thehouse party, when, looking down the locust avenue gleaming with its myriadof lights, like some road to the City of the Shining Ones, she had criedout: "Oh, _why_ is everybody so good to me?"

The others came in presently, and the evening seemed to be on wings, itflew so swiftly, as they planned for another summer to be spent at Locust, when Eugenia should come home from her year in the Paris school. Andnever, it seemed, were good nights followed so quickly by good mornings, or good mornings by good-byes. 

Almost before they realised that the parting time had actually come, theLittle Colonel and Betty were leaning over the railing of the greatsteamer, waving their handkerchiefs to Eugenia and her father on thedock. Smaller and smaller grew the familiar outlines, wider and wider thedistance between the ship and the shore, until at last even Eugenia's redjacket faded into a mere speck, and it was no longer of any use to wavegood-bye. 

CHAPTER XI. 

HOMEWARD BOUND

On that long, homeward journey it was well for Hero that he wore the RedCross on his collar. The little symbol was the open sesame to many aprivilege that ordinary dogs are not allowed on shipboard. Instead ofbeing confined to the hold, he was given the liberty of the ship, and whenhis story was known he received as much flattering attention as if he hadbeen some titled nobleman. 

The captain shook the big white paw, gravely put into his hand at theLittle Colonel's bidding, and then stooped to stroke the dog's head. As helooked into the wistful, intelligent eyes his own grew tender. 

"I have a son in the service, " he said, "sent back from South Africa, covered with scars. I know what that Red Cross meant to him for a goodmany long weeks. Go where you like, old fellow! The ship is yours, so longas you make no trouble. "

"Oh, thank you!" cried the Little Colonel, looking up at the big Britishcaptain with a beaming face. "I'd rathah be tied up myself than to haveHero kept down there in the hold. I'm suah he'll not bothah anybody. "

Nor did he. No one from stoker to deck steward could make the slightestcomplaint against him, so dignified and well behaved was he. Lloyd wasproud of him and his devotion. Wherever she went he followed her, lying ather feet when she sat in her steamer-chair, walking close beside her whenshe and Betty promenaded the deck. 

Everybody stopped to speak to him, and to question Lloyd and Betty abouthim, so that it was not many days before the little girls and the greatSt. Bernard had made friends of all the passengers who were able to be ondeck. 

The hours are long at sea, and people gladly welcome anything thatprovides entertainment, so Lloyd and Betty were often called aside as theywalked, and invited to join some group, and tell to a knot of interestedlisteners all they knew of Hero and the Major, and the training of theFrench ambulance dogs. 

In return Lloyd's stories nearly always called forth some anecdote fromher listeners about the Red Cross work in America, and to her greatsurprise she found five persons among them who had met Clara Barton insome great national calamity of fire, flood, or pestilence. 

One was a portly man with a gruff voice, who had passed through theexperiences of the forest fires that swept through Michigan, over twentyyears ago. As he told his story, he made the scenes so real that thechildren forgot where they were. They could almost smell the thick, stifling smoke of the burning forest, hear the terrible crackling of theflames, feel the scorching heat in their faces, and see the frightenedcattle driven into the lakes and streams by the pursuing fire. 

They listened with startled eyes as he described the wall of flame, hemming in the peaceful home where his little son played around thedoor-step. They held their breath while he told of their mad flight fromit, when, lashing his horses into a gallop, he looked back to see itlicking up everything in the world he held dear except the frightenedlittle family huddled at his feet. He had worked hard to build thecottage. It was furnished with family heirlooms brought West with themfrom the old homestead in Vermont. It was hard to see those great redtongues devouring it in a mouthful. 

In the morning, although they had reached a place of safety, they were outin a charred, blackened wilderness, without a roof to shelter them, achair to sit on, or a crust to eat. "The hardest thing to bear, " he said, "was to hear my little three-year-old Bertie begging for his breakfast, and to know that there was nothing within miles of us to satisfy hishunger, and that the next day it would be the same, and the next, and thenext. 

"We were powerless to help ourselves. But while we sat there in utterdespair, a neighbour rode by and hailed us. He told us that Red Crosscommittees had started out from Milwaukee and Chicago at first tidings ofthe fire, with car-loads of supplies, and that if we could go to the placewhere they were distributing we could get whatever we needed. 

"I wish you could have seen what they were handing out when we got there:tools and lumber to put up cabins, food and beds and clothes and coal-oil. They'd thought of everything and provided everything, and they went aboutthe distributing in a systematic, businesslike way that somehow put heartand cheer into us all. 

"They didn't make us feel as if they were handing out alms to paupers, butas if they were helping some of their own family on to their feet again, and putting them in shape to help themselves. Even my little Bertie feltit. Young as he was, he never forgot that awful night when we fled fromthe fire, nor the hungry day that followed, nor the fact that the arm thatcarried him food, when he got it at last, wore a brassard marked likethat. " He touched the Red Cross on Hero's collar. 

"And when the chance came to show the same brotherly spirit to some oneelse in trouble and pass the help along, he was as ready as the rest of usto do his share. 

"Three years afterward I read in the papers of the floods that had sweptthrough the Ohio and Mississippi valleys, and of the thousands that werehomeless. Bertie, --he was six then, --he listened to the account of thechildren walking the streets, crying because they hadn't a roof over themor anything to eat. He didn't say a word, but he climbed up to the manteland took down his little red savings-bank. 

"We were pretty near on our feet again by that time, although we werestill living in a cabin. The crops had been good, and we had been able tosave a little. He poured out all the pennies and nickels in hisbank, --ninety-three cents they came to, --and then he got his only storetoy, a box of tin soldiers that had been sent to him Christmas, and putthat on the table beside the money. We didn't appear to notice what he wasdoing. Presently he brought the mittens his grandmother up in Vermont hadknit for him. Then he waited a bit, and seemed to be weighing something inhis mind. By and by he slipped away to the chest where his Sunday clotheswere kept and took them out, new suit, shoes, cap and all, and laid themon the table with the money and the tin soldiers. 

"'There, daddy, ' he said, 'tell the Red Cross people to send them to somelittle boy like me, that's been washed out of his home and hasn't anythingof toys left, or his clothes. '

"I tell you it made a lump come up in my throat to see that the littlefellow had taken his very best to pay his debt of gratitude. Nothing wastoo great for him to sacrifice. Even his tin soldiers went when heremembered what the Red Cross had done for him. "

"My experience with the Red Cross was in the Mississippi floods of '82, "said a gentleman who had joined the party. "One winter day we wereattracted by screams out in the river, and found that they came from somepeople who were floating down on a house that had been washed away. Therethey were, that freezing weather, out in the middle of the river, theirclothes frozen on them, ill from fright and exposure. I went out in one ofthe boats that was sent to their rescue, and helped bring them to shore. I was so impressed by the tales of suffering they told that I went up theriver to investigate. 

"At every town, and nearly every steamboat landing, I found men from therelief committees already at work, distributing supplies. They didn't stopwhen they had provided food and clothing. They furnished seed by thecar-load to the farmers, just as in the Galveston disaster, a few yearsago, they furnished thousands of strawberry plants to the people who werewholly dependent on their crops for their next year's food. "

"Where did they get all those stores?" asked Lloyd. "And the seeds and thestrawberry plants?"

"Most of it was donated, " answered the gentleman. "Many contributions comepouring in after such a disaster, just as little Bertie's did. But thesociety is busy all the time, collecting and storing away the things thatmay be needed at a moment's notice. People would contribute, of course, even if there were no society to take charge of their donations, butwithout its wise hands to distribute, much would be lost. 

"A number of years ago a physician in Bedford, Indiana, gave a tract ofland to the American National Red Cross; more than a square mile, Ibelieve, a beautiful farm with buildings and fruit-trees, a place wherematerial can be accumulated and stored. By the terms of the treaty ofGeneva, forty nations are pledged to hold it sacred for ever against allinvading armies, to the use of the Red Cross. It is the only spot on earthpledged to perpetual peace. "

It was from a sad-faced lady in black, who had had two sons drowned in theJohnstown flood, that Lloyd and Betty heard the description of ClaraBarton's five months' labour there. A doctor's wife who had been in theMt. Vernon cyclone, and a newspaper man who had visited the South Carolinaislands after the tidal wave, and Charleston after the earthquake, piledup their accounts of those scenes of suffering, some of them even greaterthan the horrors of war, so that Lloyd could not sleep that night, forthinking of them. 

"Betty, " she whispered, across the stateroom, turning over in her berth. "Betty, are you awake?"

"Yes. Do you want anything?"

"I can't sleep. That's all. Every time I shut my eyes I see all thoseawful things they told about: cities in ruins, and dead people lyingaround in piles, and the yellow fevah camps, and floods and fiah. It is adreadful world, Betty. No one knows what awful thing is goin' to happennext. "

"Don't think about the dreadful part, " urged Betty. "Think of the funnythings Mrs. Brown told, of the time the levee broke at Shawneetown. Thetable all set for supper, and the water pouring in until the table floatedup to the ceiling, and went bobbing around like a fish. "

"That doesn't help any, " said Lloyd, after a moment. "I see the watahcrawlin' highah and highah up the walls, above the piano and pictuahs, till I feel as if it is crawlin' aftah me, and will be all ovah the bed ina minute. Did you evah think how solemn it is, Betty Lewis, to be away outin the middle of the ocean, with nothing but a few planks between us anddrownin'? Seems to me the ship pitches around moah than usual, to-night, and the engine makes a mighty strange, creakin' noise. "

"Do you remember the night I put you to sleep at the Cuckoo's Nest?" askedBetty. "The night after you fell down the barn stairs, playingbarley-bright? Shut your eyes and let me try it again. "

It was no nursery legend or border ballad that Betty crooned this time, but some peaceful lines of the old Quaker poet, and the quiet comfort ofthem stole into Lloyd's throbbing brain and soothed her excited fancy. Long after Betty was asleep she went on repeating to herself the lastlines:

 "I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air, I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care. "

She did dream of fires and floods that night, but the horror of the sceneswas less, because a baby voice called cheerfully through them, "Here, daddy, give these to the poor little boys that are cold and homesick?" anda great St. Bernard, with a Red Cross on his back, ran around distributingmittens and tin soldiers. 

"Now that we are half-way across the ocean, " said Mrs. Sherman, nextmorning, "I may give you Allison Walton's letter. She enclosed it in oneher mother wrote, and asked me not to give it to you until we were inmid-ocean. I suppose her experience in coming over from Manila taught herthat letters are more appreciated then than at the beginning of thevoyage. "

The Little Colonel unfolded it, exclaiming in surprise, "It is dated '_TheBeeches_. ' I thought that they were in Lloydsboro Valley all summah, inthe cottage next to the churchyard. That one you used to like, " she added, turning to Betty. "The one with the high green roof and deah littlediamond-shaped window-panes. "

"So they are in the Valley, " answered her mother. "But their new house isfinished now, and they have moved into that. As they have left all thebeautiful beech grove standing around it, they have decided to call theplace The Beeches, as ours is called Locust, on account of the trees infront of it. "

Beckoning to Betty to come and listen, Lloyd sat down to read the letter, and Mrs. Sherman turned to an acquaintance next her. "It is GeneralWalton's family of whom we were speaking, " she explained. "Since his deathin Manila they have been living in Louisville, until recently. We are sodelighted to think that they have now come to the Valley to live. It wasMrs. Walton's home in her girlhood, and her mother's place, Edgewood, isjust across the avenue from The Beeches. Lloyd and the little girls arethe best of friends, and we are all interested in Ranald, the only son. Hewas the youngest captain in the army, you know. He received hisappointment and was under fire before he was twelve years old. "

"Oh, mothah, " spoke up Lloyd, so eagerly that she did not notice that shehad interrupted the conversation. "Listen to this, please. You know Iwrote to Allison about Hero, and this lettah is neahly all about him. Shesaid her fathah knew Clara Barton, and that in Cuba and Manila the gamesand books that the Red Cross sent to the hospitals were appreciated by thesoldiahs almost as much as the delicacies. And she says her mothah thinksit would be fine for us all to start a fund for the Red Cross. They wantedto get up a play because they're always havin' tableaux and such things. 

"They've been readin' 'Little Women' again, and Jo's Christmas play madethem want to do something like that. They can have all the shields andknights' costumes that the MacIntyre boys had when they gave Jonesy'sbenefit. They were going to have an entahtainment last week, but couldn'tagree. Allison wanted to play 'Cinda'ella, ' because there are such prettycostumes in that, but Kitty wanted to make up one all about witches andspooks and robbah-dens, and call it 'The One-Eyed Ghost of Cocklin Tower. '

"She wanted to be the ghost. They've decided to wait till we get homebefo' they do anything. "

"There's your opportunity, Betty, " said Mrs. Sherman, turning to hergoddaughter with a smile. "Why can't you distinguish yourself by writing aplay that will make us all proud of you, and at the same time swell thefunds of the Red Cross?"

"Oh, do you really think I could, godmother? Are you in earnest?" criedBetty, her face shining with pleasure. 

"Entirely so, " answered Mrs. Sherman, running her hand caressingly overBetty's brown hair. "This little curly head is full of all sorts of talesof goblins and ogres and witches and fairy folk. String them together, dear, in some sort of shape, and I'll help with the costumes. "

The suggestion was made playfully, but Betty looked dreamily out to sea, her face radiant. The longing to do something to please her godmother andmake her proud of her was the first impulse that thrilled her, but as shebegan to search her brain for a plot, the joy of the work itself made herforget everything else, even the passing of time. She was amazed whenLloyd called to her that they were going down to lunch. She had sat theentire morning wrapped in her steamer-rug, looking out across the waterwith far-seeing eyes. As the blue waves rose and fell, her thoughts hadrisen and swayed to their rhythmic motion, and begun to shape themselvesinto rhyme. Line after line was taking form, and she wished impatientlythat Lloyd had not called her. How could one be hungry when some inwardpower, past understanding, was making music in one's soul?

She followed Lloyd down to the table like one in a trance, but the spellwas broken for awhile by Lloyd's persistent chatter. 

"You know there's all sort of things you could have, " she suggested, "ifyou wanted to use them in the piece. Tarbaby and the Filipino pony, and wecould even borrow the beah from Fairchance if you wanted anything likeBeauty and the Beast. We had that once though, at Jonesy's benefit, somaybe you wouldn't want to use it again. "

"There's to be a knight in it, " answered Betty, "and he'll be mounted inone scene. So we may need one of the ponies. " Then she turned to hergodmother. "Do you suppose there is a spinning-wheel anywhere in theneighbourhood that we could borrow?"

"Yes, I have one of my great-grandmother's stored away in the trunk-room. You may have that. "

The Little Colonel shrugged her shoulders impatiently. "Oh, I can't waitto know what you're goin' to do with a spinnin'-wheel in the play. Tell menow, Betty. "

But the little playwright only shook her head "I'm not sure myself yet. But I keep thinking of the humming of the wheel, and a sort ofspinning-song keeps running through my head. I thought, too, it wouldhelp to make a pretty scene. "

"You're goin' to put Hero in it, aren't you?" was the Little Colonel'squestion. 

"Oh, Lloyd! I can't, " cried Betty, in dismay. "A dog couldn't have a partwith princes and witches and fairies. "

"I don't see why not, " persisted Lloyd. "I sha'n't take half the interestif he isn't in it. I think you might put him in, Betty, " she urged. "I'ddo as much for you, if it was something you had set your heart on. _Please_, Betty!" she begged. 

"But he won't fit anywhere!" said Betty, in a distressed tone. "I'd puthim in, gladly, if he'd only go, but, don't you see, Lloyd, he isn'tappropriate. It would spoil the whole thing to drag him in. "

"I don't see why, " said Lloyd, a trifle sharply. "Isn't it going to be aRed Cross entahtainment, and isn't Hero a Red Cross dog? I think it's_very_ appropriate for him to have a part, even one of the principalones. "

"I can't think of a single thing for him to do--" began Betty. 

"You can if you try hard enough, " insisted Lloyd. 

Betty sighed hopelessly, and turned to her lunch in silence. She wanted toplease the Little Colonel, but it seemed impossible to her to give Hero apart without spoiling the entertainment. 

"Maybe some of the books in the ship's library might help you, " said Mr. Sherman, who had been an amused listener. "I'll look over some of them foryou. "

Later in the day he came up to Betty where she stood leaning against thedeck railing. He laid a book upon it, open at a picture of seven whiteswans, "Do you remember this?" he asked. "The seven brothers who werechanged to swans, and the good sister who wove a coat for each one out offlax she spun from the churchyard nettles? The magic coats gave them backtheir human forms. Maybe you can use the same idea, and have your princechanged into a dog for awhile. "

"Oh, thank you!" she cried. "I'd forgotten that story. I am sure it willhelp. "

He walked away, leaving her poring over the picture, but presently, as hepaced the deck, he felt her light touch on his arm, and turned to see herglowing little face looking up into his. 

"I've got it!" she cried. "The picture made me think of the very thing. Ihad been fumbling with a tangled skein, trying to find a place to beginunwinding. Now you have given me the starting thread, and it all begins tosmooth out beautifully. I'm going for pencil and paper now, to write itall down before I forget. "

That pencil and note-book were her constant companions the rest of thevoyage. Sometimes Lloyd, coming upon her suddenly, would hear herwhispering a list of rhymes such as more, core, pour, store, shore, before, or creature, teacher, feature, at which they would both laugh andBetty exclaim, hopelessly, "I can't find a word to fit that place. " Atother times Lloyd passed her in respectful silence, for she knew by therapt look on Betty's face that the mysterious business of verse-making wasproceeding satisfactorily, and she dared not interrupt. 

The day they sighted land, Lloyd exclaimed: "Oh, I can hardly wait to gethome! I've had a perfectly lovely summah, and I've enjoyed every mile ofthe journey, but the closah I get to Locust the moah it seems to me thatthe very nicest thing my wondah-ball can unroll (except givin' me Hero, ofco'se) is the goin' back home. "

"Your wonder-ball, " repeated Betty, who knew the birthday story. "Thatgives me an idea. The princess shall have a wonder-ball in the play. "

Lloyd laughed. "I believe that's all you think about nowadays, Betty. Putup yoah scribblin' for awhile and come and watch them swing the trunks upout of the hold. We're almost home, Betty Lewis, almost home!"

CHAPTER XII. 

HOME AGAIN

Meanwhile in Lloydsboro Valley the summer had slipped slowly by. Locustseemed strangely quiet with the great front gates locked, and never anysound of wheels or voices coming down the avenue. Judge Moore's place wasclosed also, and Tanglewood, just across the way, had been opened only afew weeks in the spring. So birds and squirrels held undisputed possessionof that part of the Valley, and the grass grew long and the vines climbedhigh, and often the soft whisper of the leaves was the only sound to beheard. 

But in the shady beech grove, next the churchyard, and across the avenuefrom Mrs. MacIntyre's, the noise of hammer and saw and trowel had gone onunceasingly, until at last the new home was ready for its occupants. Thefamily did not have far to move to "The Beeches"; only over the stile fromthe quaint green-roofed cottage next door, where they had spent thesummer. 

Allison, Kitty, and Elise climbed back and forth over the stile, theirarms full of their particular treasures, which they could not trust to themoving-vans. All the week that Betty and Lloyd were tossing out on theocean, they were flitting about the new house, growing accustomed to itsunfamiliar corners. By the time the _Majestic_ steamed into the New Yorkharbour, they were as much at home in their new surroundings as if theyhad always lived there. The tent was pitched on the lawn, the large familyof dolls was brought out under the trees, and the games, good times, andcamp-fire cooking went on as if they had never been interrupted for aninstant by the topsy-turvy work of moving. 

"Whose day is it for the pony-cart?" asked Mrs. Walton, coming out on thesteps one morning. 

"It was mine, " answered Kitty, speaking up from the hammock, where sheswung, half in, half out, watching a colony of ants crawling along theground underneath. "But I traded my turn to Elise, for her biggest paperboy doll. "

"And I traded my turn to Allison, if she would let me use all the purpleand yellow paint I want in her paint-box, while I am making my PrincessPansy's ball dress, " said Elise. 

Mrs. Walton smiled at the transfer of rights. The little girls had anarrangement by which they took turns in using the cart certain days in theweek, when Ranald did not want to ride his Filipino pony. 

"Whoever has it to-day may do an errand for me, " Mrs. Walton said, adding, as she turned toward the house, "Do you know that Lloyd and Betty arecoming on the three o'clock train this afternoon?"

"Then I don't want the pony-cart, " exclaimed Allison, quickly. "I'm goingdown to the depot to meet them. "

The depot was in sight of The Beeches, not more than three minutes' walkdistant. 

"Can't go back on your trade!" sang out Elise. "Can't go back on yourtrade!"

"Oh, you take it, Elise, " coaxed Allison. "It's my regular turn to-morrow. I'll make some fudge in the morning, if you will. "

Elise considered a moment. "Well, " she said, finally, "I'll let you offfrom your trade if Kitty will let me off from mine. "

"No, _sir!_" answered Kitty. "A trade's a trade. I want that paper boydoll. "

"But it's your regular turn, " coaxed Elise, "and I'd much rather go downto the depot to meet the girls than go riding. "

"So would I, " said Kitty, spurring the procession of ants to faster speedwith her slipper toe. Then she sat up and considered the matter a moment. 

"Oh, well, " she said, presently, "I don't care, after all. If it willoblige you any I'll let you off, and take the pony myself. "

"Oh, thank you, sister, " cried Elise. 

"They'll only be at the depot a few minutes, " continued the wily Kitty. "So I'll drive down to meet them in style in the cart, and then I'll go upto Locust with them, beside the carriage, and hear all about the tripfirst of anybody. "

"I wish I'd thought of that, " said Elise, a shade of disappointment in herbig dark eyes. 

"I'll tell you, " proposed Allison, enthusiastically, "We'll _all_ go downin the pony-cart to meet them together. That would be the nicest way todo. "

"Oh!" was Kitty's cool reply, "I had thought of going by for Katy orCorinne. " Then, seeing the disappointment in the faces opposite, sheadded, "But maybe I might change my mind. Have you got anything to tradefor a chance to go?"

This transfer of possessions which they carried on was like a continuousgame, of which they never tired, because of its endless variety. It was asource of great amusement to the older members of the family. 

"It is a mystery to me, " said Miss Allison, "how they manage to keep trackof their property, and remember who is the owner. I have known a doll or adish to change hands half a dozen times in the course of a forenoon. "

Elise promptly offered the paper boy doll again, which was promptlyaccepted. Allison had nothing to offer which Kitty considered equivalentto a seat in the cart, but by a roundabout transfer the trade was finallymade. Allison gave Elise the amount of purple and yellow paint she neededfor the Princess Pansy's ball gown, in return for which Elise gave her apiece of spangled gauze which Kitty had long had an eye upon. Allison inturn handed the gauze to Kitty for her right to a seat in the pony-cart, and the affair was thus happily settled to the satisfaction of allparties. 

"It _isn't_ that we are selfish with each other, " Allison had retorted, indignantly, one day when Corinne remarked that she didn't see how sisterswho loved each other could be so particular about everything. "It's onlywith our toys and the cart that we do that way. It's a kind of game thatwe've played always, and _we_ think it's lots of fun. "

So it happened that that afternoon, when the train stopped at LloydsboroValley, the first thing the Little Colonel saw was the pony-cart drawnclose to the platform. Then three little girls in white dresses and freshribbons, smiling broadly under their big flower-wreathed hats, sprang outto give them a warm welcome home, with enthusiastic hugs and kisses. 

Hero's turn came next. Released from his long, tiresome confinement in thebaggage-car, he came bounding into their midst, almost upsetting theLittle Colonel in his joy at having his freedom again. He put out hisgreat paw to each of the little girls in turn as Lloyd bade him shakehands with his new neighbours, but he growled suspiciously when Walkercame up and laid black fingers upon him. He had never seen a coloured manbefore. 

It was Betty's first meeting with the Walton girls. She had looked forwardto it eagerly, first because they were the daughters of a man whom herlittle hero-loving heart honoured as one of the greatest generals of thearmy, who had given his life to his country, and died bravely in itsservice, and secondly because Lloyd's letters the winter before had beenfull of their sayings and doings. Mrs. Sherman, too, had told her manythings of their life in Manila, and she felt that children who had suchunusual experiences could not fail to be interesting. There was a thirdreason, however, that she scanned each face so closely. She had given themparts in the new play, and she was wondering how well they would fit thoseparts. 

They in turn cast many inquiring glances at Betty, for they had heard allabout this little song-bird that had been taken away from the Cuckoo'sNest. They had read her poem on "Night, " which was published in a realpaper, and they could not help looking upon her with a deep feeling ofrespect, tinged a little with awe, that a twelve-year-old girl could writeverses good enough to be published. They had heard Keith's enthusiasticpraises of her. 

"Betty's a brick!" he had said, telling of several incidents of the houseparty, especially the picnic at the old mill, when she had gone so far tokeep her "sacred promise. " "She's the very nicest girl I know, " he hadadded, emphatically, and that was high praise, coming from the particularKeith, who judged all girls by the standard of his mother. 

As soon as the trunks were attended to, Mr. Sherman led the way to thecarriage, waiting on the other side of the platform. Hero was given aplace beside Walker, and although he sprang up obediently when he wasbidden, he eyed his companion suspiciously all the way. The pony-carttrundled along beside the carriage, the girls calling back and forth toeach other, above the rattle of the wheels. 

"Oh, isn't Hero the loveliest dog that ever was! But you ought to see ourpuppy--the cutest thing--nothing but a bunch of soft, woozy curls. " . . . "We're in the new house now, you must come over to-morrow. " . . . "Mother isgoing to take us all camping soon. You are invited, too. " This from thepony-cart in high-pitched voices in different keys. 

"Oh, I've had a perfectly lovely time, and I've brought you all somethingin my trunk. And say, girls, Betty is writing a play for the Red Crossentertainment. There's a witch in it, Kitty, and lots of pretty costumes, Allison. And, oh, deah, I'm so glad to get home I don't know what to dofirst!" This from the carriage. 

The great entrance gates were unlocked now, the lawn smoothly cut, thegreen lace-work of vines trimly trained around the high white pillars ofthe porches. The pony-cart turned back at the gate, and the carriage droveslowly up the avenue alone. The mellow sunlight of the warm Septemberafternoon filtered down like gold, through the trees arching overhead. 

"'Oh, the sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home, '" sang Lloyd, softly, leaning out of the carriage to wave her hand to Mom Beck, who, in whitestof aprons and gayest of head bandanas, stood smiling and curtseying on thesteps. The good old black face beamed with happiness as she cried, "Heahcomes my baby, an' li'l' Miss Betty, too, bless her soul an' body!"

Around the house came May Lily and a tribe of little pickaninnies, whofell back at sight of Hero leaping out of the carriage. He was the largestdog they had ever seen. Lloyd called them all around her and made themeach shake hands with the astonished St. Bernard, who did not seem torelish this part of his introduction to Kentucky. 

"He'll soon get used to you, " said the Little Colonel. "May Lily, you runtell Aunt Cindy to give you a cooky or a piece of chicken for him to eat. Henry Clay, you bring a pan of watah. If you all fly around and wait onhim right good, he'll like you lots bettah. "

Leaving Lloyd to offer Hero the hospitality of Locust in the midst of herlittle black admirers, Betty slowly followed her godmother up the widestairs. 

"You're to have the same white and gold room again, dear, " said Mrs. Sherman, peeping in as she passed the door. "I see that it is all inreadiness. So walk in and take possession. "

Betty was glad that she was alone, those first few minutes, the joy of thehome-coming was so keen. Going in, she shut the door and gave a swiftglance all around, from the dark polished floor, with its white angorarugs, to the filmy white curtains at the open casement windows. Everythingwas just as she had seen it last, --the dear little white dressing-table, with its crystal candlesticks, that always made her think of twistedicicles; the little heart-shaped pincushion and all the dainty toiletarticles of ivory and gold; the pictures on the wall; the freshly gatheredplumes of goldenrod in the crystal bowl on the mantel. She stood a moment, looking out of the open window, and thinking of the year that had gone bysince she last stood in that room. Many a long and perilous mile she hadtravelled, but here she was back in safety, and instead of bandaged eyesand the horror of blindness hovering over her, she was able to look out onthe beautiful world with strong, far-seeing sight. 

The drudgery of the Cuckoo's Nest was far behind her now, and the barelittle room under the eaves. Henceforth this was to be her home. Sheremembered the day in the church when her godmother's invitation to thehouse party reached her, and just as she had knelt then in front of thenarrow, bench-like altar, she knelt now, beside the little white bed. Now, as then, the late afternoon sun streamed across her brown curls andshining face, and "_Thank you, dear God_, " came in the same gratefulwhisper from the depths of the same glad little heart. 

"Betty! Betty!" called Lloyd, under her window. "Come and take a run overthe place. I want to show Hero his new home. "

Tired of sitting still so long on the cars, Betty was glad to join in therace over the smooth lawn and green meadows. Out in the pasture, Tarbabywaited by the bars. The grapevine swing in the mulberry-tree, every nookand corner where the guests of the house party had romped and played thesummer before, seemed to hold a special greeting for them, and every footof ground in old Locust seemed dearer for their long absence. 

The next morning, when Tarbaby was led around for Lloyd to take her usualride, both girls gave a cry of delight, for another pony followed close athis heels. It was the one that had been kept for Betty's use during thehouse party. 

"It is Lad!" called the Little Colonel, excitedly. "Oh, Papa Jack! Is hegoin' to stay heah all the time?"

"Yes, he belongs here now, " answered Mr. Sherman. "I want both my littlegirls to be well mounted, and to ride every day. "

He motioned to a card hanging from Lad's bridle, and, leaning over, Lloydread aloud, "For Betty from Papa Jack. "

Betty could hardly realise her good fortune. 

"Is he really mine?" she insisted, "the same as Tarbaby is Lloyd's?"

"Really yours, and just the same, " answered Mr. Sherman, holding out hishand to help her mount. 

She tried to thank him, tried to tell him how happy the gift had made her, but words could not measure either her gratitude or her pleasure. He readthem both, however, in her happy face. As he swung her into the saddle, she leaned forward, saying, "I want to whisper something in your ear, Mr. Sherman. " As he bent his head she whispered, "Thank you for writing PapaJack on the card. That made me happier than anything else. "

"That is what I want you to call me always now, my little daughter, " heanswered, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Locust is your home now, andyou belong to all of us. Your godmother, the Little Colonel, and I eachclaim a share. "

"What makes you so quiet?" asked Lloyd, as they rode on down the avenue. 

"I was thinking of the way Joyce's fairy tale ended, " said Betty. "'So theprince came into his kingdom, the kingdom of loving hearts and gentlehands. ' Only this time it's the princess who's come into her kingdom. "

"What do you mean?" asked Lloyd, with a puzzled look. 

"Oh, it's only some of my foolishness, " said Betty, looking back over hershoulder with a laugh. "I'm just so glad that I'm alive, and so glad thatI am me, and so happy because everybody is so heavenly kind to me, that Iwouldn't change places with the proudest princess that ever sat on athrone. "

"Then come on, and let's race to the post-office, " cried Lloyd, dashingoff, with Hero bounding along beside her. 

From the post-office they rode to The Beeches, where Allison was cookingsomething over the camp-fire, beside the tent on the lawn. 

It proved to be candy, and she waved a sticky spoon in welcome. Mrs. Walton was in a hammock, near by, her mending basket beside her, and Kittyand Elise on the grass at her feet, watching the molasses bubble up in thekettle. Betty felt a little shy at first, for this was her first meetingwith the General's wife, and she wished that the girls would not insist onhaving an immediate outline of the play. It had seemed very fine indeed toher when she read it aloud to herself, or repeated it to Lloyd. It had notseemed a very childish thing to her even when she read it to hergodmother. But she shrank from Mrs. Walton's criticism. It was with manyblushes that she began. Afterward she wondered why she should have beentimid about it. Mrs. Walton applauded it so heartily, and entered intoplans for making the entertainment a success as enthusiastically as any ofthe girls. 

"I bid to be witch!" cried Kitty, when Betty had finished. 

"I'd like to be the queen, if you don't care, " said Allison, "for I am thelargest, and I'd rather act with Rob than the other boys. But it doesn'tmake any difference. I'll be anything you want me to. "

"That's the way Betty planned it, " said Lloyd. "I'm to be the captiveprincess, and Keith will be my brother whom the witch changes into a dog. That's Hero, of co'se. Malcolm will be the knight who rescues me. RobMoore will be king, and Elise the queen of the fairies, and Ranald theogah. "

"Ranald said last night that he wouldn't be in the play if he had to learna lot of foolishness to speak, or if he couldn't be disguised so thatnobody would know him, " said Kitty. "He'll help any other way, fixing thestage and the red lights and all that, but the Captain has a dread ofmaking himself appear ridiculous. Now _I_ don't. I'd rather have the funnyparts than the high and mighty ones. "

"He might be Frog-eye-Fearsome, " suggested Betty. "Then he wouldn't haveanything to do but drag the prince and princess across the stage to theogre's tower, and the costume could be so hideous that no one could tellwhether a human or a hobgoblin was inside of it. "

"Who'll buy all the balloons for the fairies, and make our spangledwings?" asked Elise. "Oh, I know, " she cried, instantly answering her ownquestion. "I'll tell Aunt Elise all about it, and I know that she'llhelp. "

"How will you go all the way to the seashore to tell her?" asked Kitty. 

"She isn't at the seashore, " answered Elise, with an air of triumph. "Shecame back from Narragansett Pier last night. Didn't she, mamma? And sheand Malcolm and Keith are coming out to grandmother's this afternoon asstraight as the train can carry them, you might know. They always do, first thing. Don't they, mamma?"

Mrs. Walton nodded yes, then said: "Suppose you bring the play down thisafternoon, Betty. Ask your mother to come too, Lloyd, and we'll read itout under the trees. Now are all the characters decided upon?"

"All but the ogre, " said Betty. 

"Joe Clark is the very one for that, " exclaimed Lloyd. "He is head andshouldahs tallah than all the othah boys, although he is only fifteen, andhis voice is so deep and gruff it sounds as if it came out of the cellah. We can stop and ask him if he'll take the part. "

"Invite him to come down to the reading of the play, too, " said Mrs. Walton. "I'll look for you all promptly at four. "

Betty almost lost her courage that afternoon when she saw the large groupwaiting for her under the beech-trees on Mrs. Walton's lawn. Mrs. MacIntyre was there, fresh and dainty as Betty always remembered her, withthe sunshine flickering softly through the leaves on her beautiful whitehair. Miss Allison, who, in the children's opinion, knew everything, satbeside her, and worst of all, the younger Mrs. MacIntyre was there;Malcolm's and Keith's mother, whom Betty had never seen before, but ofwhom she had heard glowing descriptions from her admiring sons. 

Lloyd pointed her out to Betty as they drove in at the gate. "See, thereshe is, in that lovely pink organdy. Wouldn't you love to look like her? Iwould. She's like a queen. "

Betty sank back, faint with embarrassment. "Oh, godmother!" she whispered. "I know I can't read it before all those people. It will choke me. There'sat least a dozen, and some of them are strangers. "

Mrs. Sherman smiled, encouragingly. "There's nothing to be afraid of, dear. Your play is beautiful, in my opinion, and every one there willagree with me when they've all heard it. Go on and do your best and makeus all proud of you. "

There was no time to hesitate. Keith was already swinging on the carriagesteps to welcome them, and Malcolm and Ranald were bringing out morechairs to make places for them with the group under the beeches. Nobodymentioned the play for some time. The older people were busy questioningMrs. Sherman about her summer abroad, and Malcolm and Keith had much totell the others of their vacation at the seashore; of polo and parties andping-pong, and several pranks that sent the children into shrieks oflaughter. 

In the midst of the hum of conversation Betty's heart almost stood still. Mrs. Walton was calling the company to order. Coming forward, she ledBetty to a chair in the centre of the circle, and asked her to begin. Itwas with hands that trembled visibly that Betty opened her note-book andbegan to read "The Rescue of the Princess Winsome. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

"THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS WINSOME"

 AN ENTERTAINMENT FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE RED CROSS

 CHARACTERS

 King Rob Moore. Queen Allison Walton. Prince Hero Keith MacIntyre. PRINCESS WINSOME Lloyd Sherman. Knight Malcolm MacIntyre. Ogre Joe Clark. Witch Kitty Walton. Godmother Elizabeth Lloyd Lewis. Frog-eye Fearsome Ranald Walton. Titania Elise Walton. Bewitched Prince HERO, THE RED CROSS DOG. 

 Chorus of Fairies. {Morning-glory. {Pansy. Flower Messengers {Rose. {Forget-me-not. {Poppy. {Daisy. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. In the Witch's Orchard. Frog-eye Fearsome drags the captivePrince and Princess to the Ogre's tower. At Ogre's command Witch brewsspell to change Prince Hero into a dog. 

SCENE II. In front of Witch's Orchard. King and Queen bewail their loss. The Godmother of Princess promises aid. The Knight starts in quest of theSouth Wind's silver flute with which to summon the Fairies to his help. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. In the Tower Room. Princess Winsome and Hero. Godmother bringsspinning-wheel on which Princess is to spin Love's golden thread thatshall rescue her brother. Dove comes with letter from Knight. Flowermessengers in turn report his progress. Counting the Daisy's petals thePrincess learns that her true Knight has found the flute. 

ACT III. 

SCENE I. In Witch's Orchard. Knight returns from quest. Blows the fluteand summons Titania and her train. They bind the Ogre and Witch in thegolden thread the Princess spun. Knight demands the spell that binds thePrince and plucks the seven golden plums from the silver apple-tree. Prince becomes a prince again, and King gives the Knight the hand of thePrincess and half of his Kingdom. Chorus of Fairies. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. _Witch bends over fire in middle of orchard, brewing a charm inher caldron. Ogre stalks in, grinning frightfully, swinging his bludgeonin triumph. _

 _Ogre. _ Ha, old witch, it is done at last!I have broken the King's stronghold!I have stolen away his children twainFrom the clutch of their guardsmen bold. I have dragged them here to my castle tower. Prince Hero is strong and fair. But he and his sister shall rue my power, When once up yon winding stair. 

 _Witch. _ Now why didst thou plot such a wicked thing?The children no harm have done. 

 _Ogre. _ But I have a grudge 'gainst their father, the King, A grudge that is old as the sun. And hark ye, old hag, I must have thy aidBefore the new moon be risen. Now brew me a charm in thy caldron black, That shall keep them fast in their prison!

 _Witch. _ I'll brew thee no charm, thou Ogre dread!Knowest thou not full wellThe Princess thou hast stolen awayIs guarded by Fairy spell?Her godmother over her cradle bent"O Princess Winsome, " she said, "I give thee this gift: thou shalt deftly spin, As thou wishest, Love's golden thread. "So I dare not brew thee a spell 'gainst herMy caldron would grow acoldAnd never again would bubble up, If touched by her thread of gold. 

 _Ogre. _ Then give me a charm to bind the prince. Thou canst do that much at least. I'll give thee more gold than hands can hold, If thou'lt change him into some beast. 

 _Witch. _ I have need of gold--so on the fireI'll pile my fagots higher and higher, And in the bubbling water stirThis hank of hair, this patch of fur, This feather and this flapping fin, This claw, this bone, this dried snake skin! Bubble and boil And snake skin coil, This charm shall all plans But the Ogre's foil. 

 [_As Witch stirs and sings, the Ogre, stalking to the side, calls. _

 _Ogre. _ Ho, Frog-eye Fearsome, let the sport begin!Hence to the tower! Drag the captives in!

 [_Frog-eye Fearsome drags Prince Hero and Princess Winsome across the stage, and into the door leading up the tower stair. They are bound by ropes. Prince tries to reach his sword. Princess shrieks. _

 _Princess. _ Oh, save us, good, wise witch, In pity, save us, pray. The King, our royal father, Thy goodness will repay. [_Pulls back, wringing hand. _Oh, I cannot, _cannot_ mount the tower!Oh, save us from the bloody Ogre's power!

 [_They are dragged into the tower, door bangs and Ogre locks it with key a yard long. Goes back to Witch, who hands him vial filled from caldron with black mixture. _

 _Witch. _ Pour drop by drop upon Prince Hero's tongue. First he will bark. His hands and feetWill turn to paws, and he will seem a dog. Seven drops will make the change complete. The poison has no antidote save one, And he a prince again can never be, Unless seven silver plums he eats, Plucked from my golden apple-tree. 

 _Ogre. _ Revenge is sweet, And soon 'twill be complete!Then to my den I'll haste for gold to delve. I'll bring it at the black, bleak hour of twelve!

_Witch. _ And I upon my broomstick now must flyTo woodland tryst. Come, Hornèd OwlAnd Venomed Toad! Now play the spy!Let no one through my orchard prowl. 

 [_Exit Witch and Ogre to dirge music. _

SCENE II. _Enter King and Queen weeping. They pace upand down, wringing hands, and showing great signs ofgrief. Godmother enters from opposite side. King speaks. _

 _King. _ Good dame, Godmother of our daughter dear, Perhaps thou'st heard our tale of woe. Our children twain are stolen awayBy Ogre Grim, mine ancient foe. 

All up and down the land we've soughtFor help to break into his tower. And now, our searching all for nought, We've come to beg the Witch's power. 

 [_Godmother springs forward, finger to lip, and anxiously waves them away from orchard. _

 _Godmother. _ Nay! Nay! Your Majesty, go notWithin that orchard, now I pray!The Witch and Ogre are in league. They've wrought you fearful harm this day. She brewed a draught to change the princeInto a dog! Oh, woe is me!I passed the tower and heard him bark:Alack! That I must tell it thee!

 [_Queen shrieks and falls back in the King's arms, then recovering falls to wailing. _

 _Queen. _ My noble son a _dog?_ A _beast?_It cannot, must not, _shall_ not be!I'll brave the Ogre in his den, And plead upon my bended knee!

 _Godmother. _ Thou couldst not touch his heart of stone. He'd keep _thee_ captive in his lair. The Princess Winsome can aloneRemove the cause of thy despair. And I unto the tower will climb, And ere is gone the sunset's red, Shall bid her spin a counter charm--A skein of Love's own Golden Thread. Take heart, O mother Queen! Be brave!Take heart, O gracious King, I pray!Well can she spin Love's Golden Thread, And Love can _always_ find a way! [_Exit Godmother. _

 _Queen. _ She's gone, good dame. But what if sheHas made mistake, and thread of goldIs not enough to draw our sonFrom out the Ogre's cruel hold?Canst think of nought, your Majesty?Of nothing else? Must we stand hereAnd powerless lift no hand to speedThe rescue of our children dear?

 [_King clasps hand to his head in thought, then starts forward. _

 _King. _ I have it now! This hour I'll sendSwift heralds through my wide domains, To say the knight who rescues themShall wed the Princess for his pains. 

 _Queen. _ Quick! Let us fly! I hear the sound of feet, As if some horseman were approaching nigher. 'Twould not be seemly should he meetOur royal selves so near the Witch's fire. 

 [_They start to run, but are met by Knight on horseback in centre of stage. He dismounts and drops to one knee. _

 _King. _ 'Tis Feal the Faithful! Rise, Sir Knight, And tell us what thou doest here!

 _Knight. _ O Sire, I know your children's plightI go to ease your royal fear. 

 _Queen. _ Now if thou bringst them back to us, A thousand blessings on thy head. 

 _King. _ Ay, half my kingdom shall be thine. The Princess Winsome thou shalt wed. 

 _Queen. _ But tell us, how dost thou think to copeWith the Ogre so dread and grim?What is the charm that bids thee hopeThou canst rout and vanquish him?

 _Knight. _ My faithful heart is my only charm, But my good broadsword is keen, And love for the princess nerves my armWith the strength of ten, I ween. Come weal, come woe, no knight can failWho goes at Love's behest. Long ere one moon shall wax and wane, I shall be back from my quest. I have only to find the South Wind's flute. In the Land of Summer it lies. It can awaken the echoes mute, With answering replies. And it can summon the fairy folkWho never have said me nay. They'll come to my aid at the flute's clear call. Love _always_ can find a way. 

 _King. _ Go, Feal the Faithful. It is well!Successful mayst thou be, And all the way that thou dost ride, Our blessings follow thee. [_Curtain. _

ACT II. 

SCENE. _Room in Ogre's tower. Princess Winsome kneelingwith arm around Dog's neck. _

 _Princess. _ _Art_ thou my brother? Can it beThat thou hast taken such shape?Oh turn those sad eyes not on me!There _must_ be some escape. And yet our parents think us dead. No doubt they weep this very hour, For no one ever has escaped, Ere this, the Ogre's power. 

Oh cruel fate! We can but die!Each moment seems a week. _Is_ there no hope? Oh, Hero dear, If thou couldst only speak!But no! Within this tower roomWe're captive, and despairMust settle on us. 'Tis the doomOf all dragged up yon winding stair. 

 [_Drops her head and weeps. Enter Godmother, who waves wand and throwing back curtain, displays a spinning-wheel. _

 _Godmother. _ Rise, Princess Winsome, Dry your weeping eyes. The way of escapeWithin your own hand lies. 

Waste no time in sorrow, Spin and sing instead. Spin for thy brother's sake, A skein of golden thread. 

Question not the future, Mourn not the past, But keep thy wheel a-turning, Spinning well and fast. 

All the world helps gladlyThose who help themselves, And the thread thou spinnest, Shall be woven by elves. 

All good things shall speed thee!Thy knight, the Faithful Feal, Is to thy rescue riding. Up! To thy spinning-wheel! [_Disappears behind curtain. _

 _Princess. _ All good things shall speed me?Sir Knight, the Faithful Feal, Is to my rescue riding? [_In joyful surprise. _Turn, turn, my spinning-wheel!(_She sings. _)

[Spinning Wheel Song. 

My godmother bids me spin, that my heart may not be sad. Spin and sing for my brother's sake, and the spinning makes me glad. Spin, sing with humming whir, the wheel goes round and round. For my brother's sake, the charm I'll break, Prince Hero shall be found. Spin, sing, the golden thread, Gleams in the sun's bright ray, The humming wheel my grief can heal, For love will find a way. ]

 [_Pauses with uplifted hand. _

What's that at my casement tapping?Some messenger, maybe. Pause, good wheel, in thy turning, While I look out and see. 

 [_Opens casement and leans out, as if welcoming a carrier dove, which may be concealed in basket outside window. _

Little white dove, from my faithful knight, Dost thou bring a message to me?Little white dove with the white, white breast, What may that message be?

 [_Finds note, tied to wing. _

Here is his letter. Ah, well-a-day!I'll open it now, and read. Little carrier dove, with fluttering heart, I'm a happy maiden, indeed. (_She reads. _) "O Princess fair, in the Ogre's tower, In the far-off Summer-landI seek the South Wind's silver flute, To summon a fairy band. Now send me a token by the doveThat thou hast read my note. Send me the little heart of goldFrom the chain about thy throat. And I shall bind it upon my shield, My talisman there to stay. And then all foes to me must yield, For Love will find the way. 

Here is set the hand and sealOf thy own true knight, the faithful--Feal. "

 [_Princess takes locket from throat and winds chain around dove's neck. _

_Princess sings. _

[The Dove Song. 

Now, flutter and fly, flutter and fly, Bear him my heart of gold, Bid him be brave little carrier dove!Bid him be brave and bold!Tell him that I at my spinning wheel, Will sing while it turns and hums, And think all day of his love so leal, Until with the flute he comes. Now fly, flutter and fly, Now flutter and fly, away, away. ]

 [_Sets dove at liberty. Turning to wheel again, repeats song. _

 _Princess repeats. _ My Godmother bids me spin, That my heart may not be sad;Spin and sing for my brother's sake, And the spinning makes me glad. 

Sing! Spin! With hum and whirThe wheel goes round and round. For my brother's sake the charm I'll break!Prince Hero shall be found. 

Spin! Sing! The golden threadGleams in the sunlight's ray!The humming wheel my grief can heal, For Love will find a way. 

 [_First messenger appears at window, dressed as a Morning-glory. _

 _Morning-glory. _ Fair Princess, This morning, when the early dawnWas flushing all the sky, Beside the trellis where I bloomed, A knight rode slowly by. 

He stopped and plucked me from my stem, And said, "Sweet Morning-glory, Be thou my messenger to-day, And carry back my story. 

"Go bid the Princess in the towerForget all thought of sorrow. Her true knight will return to herWith joy, on some glad morrow. " [_Disappears. _

 _Princess sings. _ Spin! spin! The golden threadHolds no thought of sorrow. My true knight he shall come to meWith joy on some glad morrow. 

 [_Second flower messenger, dressed at Pansy, appears at window. _

 _Pansy. _ Gracious Princess, I come from Feal the Faithful. He plucked me from my bower, And said, speed to the PrincessAnd say, "Like this sweet flowerThe thoughts within my bosomBloom ever, love, of thee. Oh, read the pansy's message, And give a thought to me. " [_Pansy disappears. _

 _Princess sings. _ Spin, spin, O golden thread!And turn, O humming wheel. This pansy is his thought of me, My true knight, brave and leal. 

 [_Third flower messenger, a pink Rose. _

 _Rose. _ Thy true knight battled for thee to-day, On a fierce and bloody field, But he won at last in the hot affray, By the heart of gold on his shield. 

He saw me blushing beside a wall, My petals pink in the sunWith pleasure, because such a valiant knightThe hard-fought battle had won. 

And he kissed me once on my soft pink cheek, And once in my heart of gold, And bade me hasten to thee and speak. Pray take the message I hold. 

 [_Princess goes to the window, takes a pink rose from themessenger. As she walks back, kisses it and fastens it on herdress. Then turns to wheel again. _

 _Princess sings. _ Spin, spin, O golden thread, And turn, O happy wheel. The pink rose brought in its heart of gold, A kiss, his love to seal. 

 [_Fourth messenger, a Forget-me-not. _

 _Forget-me-not. _ Fair Princess, Down by the brook, when the sun was low, A brave knight paused to slakeHis thirst in the water's silver flow, As he journeyed far for thy sake, He saw me bending above the stream, And he said, "Oh, happy spot!Ye show me the Princess Winsome's eyesIn each blue forget-me-not. "He bade me bring you my name to hideIn your heart of hearts for ever, And say as long as its blooms are blue, No power true hearts can sever. 

 _Princess sings. _ Spin, spin, O golden thread. O wheel; my happy lotIt is to hide within my heartThat name, forget-me-not. 

 [_Fifth messenger, a Poppy. _

 _Poppy. _ Dear Princess Winsome, Within the shade of a forest gladeHe laid him down to sleep, And I, the Poppy, kept faithful guardThat it might be sweet and deep. But oft in his dreams he stirred and spoke, And thy name was on his tongue, And I learned his secret ere he woke, When the fair new day was young. And this is what he, whispering, said, As he journeyed on in his way:"Bear her my dreams in your chalice red, For I dream of her night and day. "

 _Princess sings. _ Spin, spin, O golden thread. He dreams of me night and day!The poppy's chalice is sweet and red. Oh, Love will find a way!

 [_Sixth messenger, a Daisy. _

 _Daisy. _ O Princess fair, Far on the edge of the Summer-landI stood with my face to the sun, And the brave knight counted with strong handMy petals, one by one. 

And he said, "O Daisy, white and gold, The princess must count them too. By thy petals shall she be toldIf my long, far quest is through. 

"Whether or not her knight has foundThe South Wind's flute that he sought. "So over the hills from the Summer-land, Your true knight's token I've brought. 

 [_Gives Princess a large artificial daisy. She counts petals, slowly dropping them one by one. _

 _Princess. _ Far on the edge of the Summer-land, O Daisy, white and gold, My true love held you in his hand. What was the word he told?He's found it. Found it not. Found it. Found it not. 

That magic flute of the South Wind, sweet, Will he blow it, over the lea?Will the fairy folk its call repeat, And hasten to rescue me?

He's found it, found it not. Found it, found it not. Found it, found it not. He's _found_ it! [_Turning to the dog. _

Come, Hero! Hear me, brother mine;Thy gladness must indeed be mute, But oh, the joy! We're saved! We're saved!My knight has found the silver flute!

(_Sings. _)

["Spin, Wheel, Reel Out Thy Golden Thread. "

Spin, wheel, reel out thy golden thread, My happy heart sings glad and gay, Hero shall 'scape the Ogre dread, And I my own true love shall wed. For love has found a way, For love has found a way. ]

 [_Curtain. _

ACT III. 

SCENE. _In front of Witch's Orchard. Knight comes riding by, blows flute softly under the tower window. Princessleans out and waves her hand. Knight dismounts, andlittle page takes horse, leading it off stage. _

 _Knight. _ Lean out of thy window, O Princess fair, Rescuers now are at hand. Thou shalt be led down the winding stairBy the Queen of the Fairy band. 

Listen, as low on the South Wind's fluteI call the elves to our trystDown rainbow bubbles they softly float, Light-winged as stars in a mist. 

 [_He blows on flute, and from every direction the Fairies come floating in, their gauzy wings spangled, and each one carrying a toy balloon, attached to a string. They trip back and forth, their balloons bobbing up and down like rainbow bubbles, singing. _

[Fairy Chorus. 

We come, we come at thy call, On rainbow bubbles we float. We fairies, one and all, Have answered the wind flute's note. 

The south wind's silver flute, From the far-off summer land, It bade us hasten here, To lend a helping hand. It bade us hasten, hasten here, To lend a helping hand. 

2. To the aid of the gallant knight, To the help of the princess fair, To the rescue of the prince, We come to the Ogre's lair. To the rescue of the prince, We come to the Ogre's lair. 

3. And now, at thy behest, We pause in our bright array, To end thy weary quest, For love has found a way. To end thy weary, weary quest, For love has found a way. ]

 [_Titania coming forward, waves Her star-tipped wand, and looks up toward Princess at the window. _

 _Titania. _ Princess Winsome, When thy good GodmotherBade thee spin Love's thread, It was with this promise, These the words she said:

All the world helps gladlyThose who help themselves. The thread thou spinnest bravely, Shall be woven by elves. And now, O Princess Winsome, How much hast thou spun, As thy wheel, a-whirling, Turned from sun to sun?

 _Princess. _ This, O Queen Titania. [_Holding up mammoth ball. _To the humming wheel's refrain, I sang, and spun the measureOf one great golden skein. 

And winding, winding, winding, At last I wound it all, Until the thread all goldenMade a mammoth wonder-ball. 

 _Titania. _ Here below thy casementThy true knight waiting stands. Drop the ball thou holdestInto his faithful hands. 

 [_Princess drops the ball, Knight catches it, and as Titania waves her wand, he starts along the line of Fairies. They each take hold as the Witch and Ogre come darting in, she brandishing her broomstick, he his bludgeon. They come through gate of the Orchard in the background. As the ball unwinds, the Fairies march around them, tangling them in the yards and yards of narrow yellow ribbon, singing as they go. 

Fairy Chorus. _ We come, we come at thy call, On rainbow bubbles we float. We fairies, one and all, Have answered the Wind-flute's note. To the aid of the gallant Knight, To the help of the Princess fair, To the rescue of the Prince, We come to the Ogre's lair. We come, we come at thy call, The Witch and Ogre to quell, And now they both must bowTo the might of the fairies' spell. Love's Golden Thread can bindThe strongest Ogre's arm, And the spell of the blackest WitchMust yield to its mighty charm. 

 [_Ogre and Witch stand bound and helpless, tangled in golden cord. They glower around with frightful grimaces. King and Queen enter unnoticed from side. Knight draws his sword, and brandishing it before Ogre, cries out fiercely. _

 _Knight. _ The key! The key that opens yonder tower!Now give it me, or by my trothYour head shall from your shoulders fly!To stab you through I'm nothing loath!

 [_Ogre gives Knight the key. He rushes to the door, unlocks it, and Princess and dog burst out. Queen rushes forward and embraces her, then the King, and Knight kneels and kisses her hand. Princess turns to Titania. _

 _Princess. _ Oh, happy day that sets me freeFrom yon dread Ogre's prison!Oh, happy world, since 'tis for meSuch rescuers have 'risen. But see, your Majesty! the plightOf Hero--he the Prince, my brother!Wilt thou _his_ wrong not set aright?Another favour grant! One other!

 [_Titania waves wand toward Knight who springs at Witch with drawn sword. _

 _Knight. _ The spell! The spell that breaks the powerThat holds Prince Hero in its thrall!Now give it me, or in this hourThy head shall from its shoulders fall!

 _Witch. _ Pluck with your thumbsSeven silver plums [_Speaking in high, cracked voice. _From my golden apple-tree!These the dog must eat. The change will be complete, And a prince once more the dog will be!

 [_Princess darts back into Orchard, followed by dog, who crouches behind hedge, and is seen no more. She picks plums, and, stooping, gives them to him, under cover of the hedge. The real Prince Hero leaps up from the place where he has been lying, waiting, and hand in hand they run back to the centre of the stage, where the Prince receives the embraces of King and Queen. Prince then turns to Knight. _

 _Prince Hero. _ Hail, Feal the Faithful!My gratitude I cannot tell, That thou at last hath freed meFrom the Witch's fearful spell. But wheresoe'er thou goest, Thou faithful knight and true, The favours of my kingdomShall all be showered on you. [_Turns to Titania. _Hail, starry-winged Titania!And ye fairies, rainbow-hued!I have not words sufficientTo tell my gratitude, But if the loyal serviceOf a mortal ye should need, Prince Hero lives to serve you, No matter what the deed!

 [_Characters now group themselves in tableau. Queen and Prince on one side, Godmother and Titania on the other. King in centre, with Princess on one hand, Knight on other. He places her hand in the Knight's, who kneels to receive it. Ogre and Witch, still making horrible faces, are slightly in background, bound. Fairies form an outer semicircle. _

_King. _ And now, brave Knight, requited stand!Here is the Princess Winsome's hand. To-morrow thou shalt wedded be, And half my kingdom is for thee!

 _Fairy Chorus. _ Love's golden cord has boundThe strongest Ogre's arm, And the spell of the blackest WitchHas yielded to its charm. The Princess Winsome plightsHer troth to the Knight to-day, So fairies, one and all, We need no longer stay. 

The golden thread is spun, The Knight has won his bride, And now our task is done, We may no longer bide. On rainbow bubbles bright, We fairies float away. _The wrong is now set rightAnd Love has found the way!_

 [_Curtain. _

As Betty finished reading, there was a babel of voices and a clapping ofhands that made her face grow redder and redder. They were all trying tocongratulate her at once, and she was so confused that she wished shecould run away and hide. But the applause was very sweet to shy littleBetty. She felt that she had done her best, and that not only hergodmother was proud of her, but Keith, and Keith's beautiful mother, whobent from her queenly height to kiss Betty's flushed cheek, and whisper aword of praise that made her glow for weeks afterward, whenever shethought of it. 

 "'And he kissed me once on my soft pink cheek, And once in my heart of gold, '"

hummed Keith. "Say, Betty, that's mighty pretty. How did you ever think ofit?"

Before she could answer, one of the maids came out with a tray of sherbetand cake, and the boys sprang up to help serve the girls. 

"I know some of my part already, " said Kitty, stirring her sherbetsuggestively, and repeating in a sepulchral tone:

 "'I'll stir This hank of hair, this patch of fur, This feather and this flapping fin, This claw, this bone, this dried snake skin. '"

"Oh, Kitty, for mercy's sake _hush!_" said Allison; "you make my blood runcold. "

"But I must, if we've only a week to get ready in. I expect to say it dayand night. It's better to do that than to take more than a week, and giveup the camping party, isn't it?"

"It's going to be a howling success, " prophesied Malcolm. "When mamma andauntie and Aunt Mary go into a scheme the way they are doing now, costumesand drills, and all sorts of impossible things don't count at all. We'llbe ready in plenty of time. "

"Especially, " said the Little Colonel, with dignity, "when mothah and PapaJack are goin' to do so much. My pa'ht is longah than anybody's. "

Next morning at the depot, the post-office, and the blacksmith shop a signwas displayed which everybody stopped to read. Similar announcementsnailed on various trees throughout the Valley caused many an old farmer topull up his team and adjust his spectacles for a closer view of this novelposter. 

They were all Miss Allison's work. Each one bore at the top a crayonsketch of a huge St. Bernard, with a Red Cross on its collar andshoulder-bags. Underneath was a notice to the effect that an entertainmentwould be given the following Friday night in the college hall, a shortconcert, followed by a play called "The Princess Winsome's Rescue, " inwhich _Hero_, the Red Cross dog recently brought from Switzerland, wouldtake a prominent part. The proceeds were to be given to the cause of theRed Cross. 

That announcement alone would have drawn a large crowd, but added to thatwas the fact that twenty families in the Valley had each contributed achild to the fairy chorus or the group of flower messengers, and were thuspersonally interested in the success of the entertainment. 

There was scarcely standing-room when the doors were opened Fridayevening. Papa Jack felt well repaid for his part in the hurriedpreparations when, after the musical part of the programme, he heard thebuzz of admiration that went around the room, as the curtain rose on thefirst scene of the play. It was the dimly lighted witch's orchard. 

Across the stage, five feet back from the footlights, ran a snaky-lookingfence with high-spiked posts. It had taken him all morning to build it, even with Alec's and Walker's help. Above this peered a thicket of smalltrees and underbrush bearing a marvellous crop of gold and silver applesand plums. Real gold and silver fruit it looked to be in the dim light, and not the discarded ornaments of a score of old Christmas-trees. Astuffed owl kept guard on one high gate-post, and a huge black velvet caton the other. 

In the centre of the stage, showing plainly through the open double gates, the witch's caldron hung on a tripod, over a fire of fagots. Here Kitty, dressed like an old hag, leaned on her blackened broomstick, stirring thebrew, and muttering to herself. 

At one side of the stage could be seen the door leading into the ogre'stower, and above it a tiny casement window. 

Mrs. Walton gave a nod of satisfaction over her work, when the ogre cameroaring in. His costume was of her making, even to the bludgeon which hecarried. "Nobody could guess that it was only an old Indian club paintedred to hide the lumps of sealing-wax I had to stick on to make theregulation knots, " she whispered to Keith's father, who sat next her. "Andno one would ever dream that the ogre is Joe Clark. I had hard work topersuade him to take the part, but an invitation to my camping party nextweek proved to be effective bait. And such a time as I had to get Ranald'scostume! I was about to ask Betty to change his name, when Elise foundthat Mardi Gras frog at some costumer's. Those webbed feet and hideouseyes are enough to strike terror to any one's soul. "

It was a play in which every one was pleased with the part given him. Allison and Rob swept up and down in their gilt crowns and ermine-trimmedrobes of royal purple, feeling that as king and queen they had the mostimportant parts of all. Keith looked every inch the charming Prince Herohe personated, and Malcolm made such a dashing knight that there was aburst of applause every time he appeared. 

Betty made a dear old godmother, and Elise, with crown and star-tippedwand, filmy spangled wings, and big red bubble of a balloon, was supremelyhappy as Queen of the Fairies. But it was the Little Colonel who won thegreatest laurels, in the tower room, making the prettiest picture of allas she bent over the great St. Bernard, bewailing their fate. 

The scenery had been changed with little delay between acts. Three tallscreens, hastily unfolded just in front of the spiked fence, hid theorchard from view, and a fourth screen served the double purpose offorming the side wall of the room, and hiding the ogre's tower. The narrowspace between the screens and the footlights was ample for the scene thattook place there, and the arrangement saved much trouble. For in the lastact, the screens had only to be carried away, to leave the stage with itsoriginal setting. 

"Lloyd never looked so pretty before, in her life, " said Mr. Sherman tohis wife, as they watched the Princess Winsome tread back and forth besidethe spinning-wheel, the golden cord held lightly in her white fingers. Butshe was even prettier in the next scene, when with the dove in her handsshe stood at the window, twining the slender gold chain about its neck andsinging in a high, sweet voice, clear as a crystal bell:

 "Flutter and fly, flutter and fly, Bear him my heart of gold. Bid him be brave, little carrier dove, Bid him be brave and bold. "

Twice many hands called her back, and many eyes looked admiringly as shesang the song again, holding the dove to her breast and smoothing itswhite feathers as she repeated the words:

 "Tell him that I at my spinning-wheel Will sing while it turns and hums, And think all day of his love so leal Until with the flute he comes. "

"Jack, " said some one in a low tone to Mr. Sherman, as the applause diedaway for the third time, "Jack, when the Princess Winsome is a littleolder, you'd be wise to call in the ogre's help. You'll have more than oneKentucky Knight trying to carry her away if you don't. "

Mr. Sherman made some laughing reply, but turned away so absorbed by athought that his friend's words had suggested that he lost all of theflower messengers' speeches. That some knight might want to carry off hislittle Princess Winsome was a thought that had never occurred to himexcept as some remote possibility far in the future. But looking at her asshe stood in her long court train, he realised that in a few more monthsshe would be in her teens, and then--time goes so fast! He sighed, thinking with a heavy sinking of the heart that it might be only a fewyears until she would be counting the daisy petals in earnest. 

The curtain hitched just at the last, so that it would not go down, sowith their rainbow bubbles bright the fairies ran off the stage towardvarious points in the audience, for the coveted admiration and praisewhich they knew was their due. 

"Wasn't Hero fine? Didn't he do his part beautifully?" cried Lloyd, as herfather, with one long step, raised himself up to a place beside her on thestage, where the children were holding an informal reception. 

"Show him the money-box, " cried Keith, pressing down through the crowdsfrom the outer door whither he had gone after the entrance receipts. 

"Just look, old fellow. There's dollars and dollars in there. See whatyou've done for the Red Cross. If it hadn't been for you, Betty neverwould have written the play. "

"And if it hadn't been for Betty's writing the play you never would havesent me this heart of gold, " said Malcolm in an aside to Lloyd, as heunfastened her locket and chain from his shield. "Am I to keep it always, fair princess?"

"No, indeed!" she answered, laughingly, holding out her hand to take it. "Papa Jack gave me that, and I wouldn't give it up to any knight undah thesun. "

"That's right, little daughter, " whispered her father, "I am not in such ahurry to give up my Princess Winsome as the old king was. Come, dear, helpme find Betty. I want to tell her what a grand success it was. "

Lloyd slipped a hand in her father's and led him toward a wing whither theshy little godmother had fled, without a glance in Malcolm's direction. But afterward, when she came out of the dressing-room, wrapped in her longparty-cloak, she saw him standing by the door. "Good night!" he said, waving his plumed helmet. Then, with a mischievous smile, he sang in anundertone:

 "Go bid the princess in the tower Forget all thought of sorrow. Her true knight will return to her With joy, on some glad morrow. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

IN CAMP

Several miles from Lloydsboro Valley, where a rapid brook runs by theruins of an old paper-mill, a roaring waterfall foams and splashes. Evenin the long droughts of midsummer it is green and cool there, for thespray, breaking on the slippery stones, freshens the ferns on the bank, and turns its moss to the vivid hue of an emerald. Near by, in an openpasture, sloping down from a circle of wooded hills, lies an ideal spotfor a small camp. 

It was here that Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison came one warm afternoon, theMonday following the entertainment, with a wagonette full of children. Ranald, Malcolm, Keith, and Rob Moore had ridden over earlier in the dayto superintend the coloured men who dug the trenches and pitched thetents. By the time the wagonette arrived, fuel enough to last a week waspiled near the stones where the camp-fire was laid, and everything was inreadiness for the gay party. Flags floated from the tent poles, andDinah, the young coloured woman who was to be the cook, came up from thespring, balancing a pail of water on her head, smiling broadly. 

As the boys and girls swarmed out and scurried away in every directionlike a horde of busy ants, Mrs. Walton turned to her sister with a laugh. "Did we lose any of them on the way, Allison? We'd better count noses. "

"No, we are all here: eight girls, four boys, the four already on thefield, Dinah and her baby, and ourselves, twenty in all. "

"Twenty-one, counting Hero, " corrected Mrs. Walton, as the great St. Bernard went leaping after Lloyd, sniffing at the tents, and barkingoccasionally to express his interest in the frolic. "He seems to beenjoying it as much as any of us. "

"I wish that they were all as able to take care of themselves as he is. Itwould save us a world of anxiety. Do you begin to realise, Mary, what aload of responsibility we have taken on our shoulders? Sixteen boys andgirls to keep out of harm's way for a week in the woods is no easymatter. "

"We'll keep them so busy that they'll have no time for mischief. Thewagonette isn't unloaded yet. Wait till you see the games I've brought, and the fishing-tackle. There's an old curtain that can be hung betweenthose two trees any time we want to play charades. "

"Swing that hammock over there, Ranald, " she called, nodding to a clump oftrees near the spring. "Then some of you boys can carry this chest back toDinah. " She pointed to the old army mess-chest, that always accompaniedthem on their picnics and outings. 

"The Ogre can do that, " said the Little Captain, nodding toward Joe Clark, who stood leaning lazily against a tree. 

"Do it yourself, Frog-Eye Fearsome, " retorted Joe, at the same time comingforward to help carry the chest to the place assigned it. 

"They'll never be able to get away from those names, " said Miss Allison. "Well, what is it, my Princess Winsome?" she asked, as Lloyd came runningup to her. 

"Please take care of these for me, Miss Allison, " answered Lloyd, holdingout Hero's shoulder-bags, which she had just taken from him. "I put on histhings when we started, for mothah says nobody evah knows what's goin' tohappen in camp, and we might need those bandages. " Tumbling them into MissAllison's lap, she was off again in breathless haste, to follow the othergirls, who were exploring the tents, and exclaiming over all the queermake-shifts of camp life. Then they raced down to the waterfall, and, taking off shoes and stockings, waded up and down in the brook. Theseearly fall days were as warm as August, so wading was not yet one of theforbidden pastimes. They splashed up and down until the Little Captain'sbugle sent a ringing call for their return to camp. Katie was one of thelast to leave the water. Lloyd waited for her while she hurriedly lacedher shoes, and as they followed the others she said, in a confidentialtone, "Do you think you are goin' to like to stay out heah till nextSata'day?"

"Like it!" echoed Katie, "I could stay here a year!"

"But at night, I mean. Sleepin' in those narrow little cots, with nothin'ovah ou' heads but the tents, and no floah. Ugh! What if a snake or aliz'ad should wiggle in, and you'd heah it rustlin' around in the grassundah you! There's suah to be bugs and ants and cattahpillahs. I like campin the daylight, but it would be moah comfortable to have a house to sleepin at night. I wish I could wish myself back home till mawnin'. "

"I don't mind the bugs and spiders, " said Katie, recklessly, "and you'dbetter not let the boys find out that you do, or they'll never stopteasing you. "

A bountifully spread supper-table met their sight as they reached thecamp. It had been made by laying long boards across two poles, which weresupported by forked stakes driven into the ground. The eight girls made arush for the camp-stools on one side of the table, and the eight boysgrabbed those on the other side. 

"Don't have to have no manners in the woods, " remarked little FreddyNicholls, straddling his stool, and beginning his supper, regardless ofthe knife and fork beside his plate. "That's what I like about campingout. You don't have to wait to have things handed to you, but can dip inand get what you want like an Injun. "

Lloyd looked at him scornfully as she daintily unfolded her paper napkin. She nodded a decided yes when Katie whispered, "Aren't boys horrid andgreedy!" Then she corrected herself hastily. She had seen Malcolm wait topass a dish of fried chicken to his Aunt Allison before helping himself, and heard Ranald apologise to his next neighbour for accidentally jogginghis elbow. "Not all of them, " she replied. 

It added much to Betty's interest in the meal to know that the cup fromwhich she drank, and the fork with which she ate, had been used by realsoldiers, and carried from one army post to another many times in thetravel-worn old mess chest. 

Little Elise was the only one who did not give due attention to hersupper. She sat with a cooky in her hand, looking off at the hills withdreamy eyes, until her mother spoke to her. 

"I am trying to make some poetry like Betty did, " she answered. Ever sincethe play her thoughts seemed trying to twist themselves into rhymes, andshe was constantly coming up to her mother with a new verse she had justmade. 

"Well, what is it, Titania?" asked Mrs. Walton, seeing from the gleam ofsatisfaction in the black eyes that the verse was ready. 

"It's all of our names, " she said, shyly, waving her hand toward the girlson her side of the table. 

 "Betty, Corinne, and Lloyd, Margery, Kitty, and Kate, Allison and Elise all together make eight. "

"Oh, that's easy, " said Rob. "You just strung a lot of names together. Anybody can do that. "

"You do it, then, " proposed Kitty. "Make a verse with the boys' names init. "

"Malcolm, Ranald, and Rob, Jamie, Freddy, Keith, " he began, boldly, thenhesitated. "There isn't any rhyme for Keith. "

"Change them around, " suggested Malcolm. The girls would not help, and thewhole row of boys floundered among the names for a while, unwilling to bebeaten by the youngest member of the party, and a girl, at that. Finally, by their united efforts and a hint from Miss Allison, they succeeded. 

 "Malcolm, Ranald, and Rob, Keith and Freddy, and James, Joe the Ogre, and George. Those are the boys' eight names. "

"Let's make a law, " suggested Kitty, "that nobody at the table can sayanything from now on till we are through supper, unless they speak inrhymes. "

They all agreed, but for a few minutes no one ventured a remark. Onlygiggles broke the silence, until Allison asked Freddy Nicholls to pass thepickles. Recorded here in a book, it may seem a very silly game, but tothe jolly camping party, ready to laugh at even the sheerest nonsense, itproved to be the source of much fun. Even Freddy, to his own greatdelight, surprised himself and the company by asking Elise to take somecheese. Joe was thrown into confusion by Kitty's asking him if flesh, fowl, or fish, was his favourite dish. As he could only nod his head, hehad to pay a forfeit, and Keith answered for him by saying, "That's not afair question to Joe. An ogre eats all things, you know. " So it went onuntil Mrs. Walton said:

 "Now all who are able, may rise from the table. The camp-fire's burning bright. Spread rugs on the ground, and gather around, And we'll all tell tales in its light. "

"This is the jolliest part of it all!" exclaimed Keith, a little later, as, stretched out on a thick Indian blanket, he looked around on thecircle of faces, glowing in the light of the leaping fagot-fire. Twilighthad settled on the camp. The tumbling of the waterfall over the rocks madea subdued roar in the background. An owl called somewhere from the depthsof the woods. As the dismal "Tu-whit, tu who-oo" sounded through thegloaming, Lloyd glanced over her shoulder with a shudder. 

"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "It looks as if the witch's orchard might be therebehind us, with all sorts of snaky, crawlin' things in it. Come heah, Hero. Let me put my back against you. It makes me feel shivery to eventhink of such a thing!"

The dog edged nearer at her call, and she snuggled up against his tawnycurls with a feeling of warmth and protection. 

"Wish I had a dog like that, " said Jamie, fondly stroking the silky earthat was nearest him. "I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for him if Ihad. "

"Money couldn't buy Hero!" exclaimed Lloyd. 

"Now what would you do, " said Kitty, who was always supposing impossiblethings, "if some old witch would come to you and say, 'You may have yourchoice? a palace full of gold and silver and precious stones and give upHero, or keep him and be a beggar in rags?"

"I'd be a beggah, of co'se!" cried Lloyd, warmly, throwing her arm aroundthe dog's neck. "Think I'd go back on anybody that had saved my life? ButI wouldn't stay a beggah, " she continued. "I'd put on the Red Cross too, and we'd go away where there was war, Hero and I, and we'd spend ou' livestakin' care of the soldiahs. I wouldn't have to dress in rags, for I'dweah the nurse's costume, and I'd do so much good that some day, may be, somebody would send me the Gold Cross of Remembrance, as they did ClaraBarton, and I'm suah that I'd rathah have that, with all it means, thanall the precious stones and things that the witch could give me. "

"When did Hero save your life?" asked Joe, who had not heard the story ofthe runaway in Geneva. 

"Tell us all about it, Lloyd, " asked Mrs. Walton. So Lloyd began, and thegroup around the fire listened with breathless attention. And that wasfollowed by the Major's story, and all he had told her of St. Bernarddogs, and of the Red Cross service. Then the finding of the Major by hisfaithful dog on the dark mountain after the storm. Betty's turn came next. She repeated some of the stories they had heard on shipboard. Mrs. Waltonadded her part afterward, telling her personal experience with the RedCross work in Cuba and the Philippines. 

"That is one reason I took such a deep interest in your littleentertainment, " she said, "and was so pleased when it brought so muchmoney. I know that every penny under the wise direction of the Red Crosswill help to make some poor soldier more comfortable; or if some suddencalamity should come in this country, before it was sent away, your littlefund might help to save dozens of lives. "

The fire had burned low while they talked, and Elise was yawning sleepily. Miss Allison looked at her watch. "How the time has flown!" she exclaimedin surprise. "Where is the bugler of this camp? It is high time for him toplay taps. "

Ranald ran for his bugle, and the clear call that he had learned to playwhen he was "The Little Captain, " in far-away Luzon, rang out into thedark woods. It was answered by the same silvery notes. Mrs. Walton andMiss Allison looked at each other in surprise, for the reply was no echo, but the call of a real bugle, somewhere not far away. 

"Oh, we forgot to tell you, Aunt Mary, " said Malcolm, noting the surprisedglance, "It's a regiment of the State Guard, in camp over by Calkin'sCliff. We boys were over there this morning. They made a big fuss over uswhen they found that Ranald was General Walton's son and we were hisnephews. They wanted us to stay to dinner, and when they found out thatyou were coming to camp here, the Colonel said be wanted to come over hereand call. He used to know you out West. "

"Colonel Wayne, " repeated Mrs. Walton, when Malcolm finally remembered thename. "We knew him when he was only a young cadet at West Point. TheGeneral was very fond of him, and I shall be glad to see him again. "

"They'll be interested in Hero, " said Ranald. "Maybe they'll want to trainsome war dogs for our army if they set him at work. Do you suppose he hasforgotten his training, Lloyd? Let's try him in the morning. "

"You can make a great game of it, " suggested Mrs. Walton. "Rig up one ofthe tents for a hospital. Some of the boys can be wounded soldiers andsome of the girls nurses. "

"All but me, " said Lloyd. "I'll have to be an officer to give the ordahs. He only knows the French words for that, and the Majah taught them to me. "

"What can we use for the brassards and costumes?" said Kitty. 

"Elise has an old red apron in the clothes-hamper that we can cut up forcrosses, " said Mrs. Walton, always ready for emergencies. "But now to yourtents, every man of you, or you'll never be ready to get up in themorning. "

It was hard to go to sleep in the midst of such strange surroundings, andmore than once Lloyd started up, aroused by the hoot of an owl, or thethud of a bat against the side of the tent. Not until she reached out andlaid her hand on the great St. Bernard stretched out beside her cot, didshe settle herself comfortably to sleep. With the touch of his soft curlsagainst her fingers, she was no longer afraid. 

When the officers came into the camp next day, they found the children inthe midst of their new game. It was some time before their attention wasattracted to it, for the Colonel was one of the men who had followedGeneral Walton on his long, hard Indian campaign, and there were manyquestions to be asked and answered, about mutual friends in the army. 

Hero was not making a serious business of the game, but was entering intoit as if it were a big frolic. He could not make believe as the boyscould, who played at soldiering. But the old words of command, uttered, inthe Little Colonel's high, excited voice, sent him bounding in thedirection she pointed, and the prostrate forms he found scattered aboutthe sham battle field, seemed to quicken his memory. Mrs. Walton presentlycalled the officer's attention to the efforts Hero was making to recallhis old lessons, and briefly outlined his history. 

"I believe he would remember perfectly, " said the Colonel, watching himwith deep interest, "if we were to take him over to our camp, and try himamong the regular uniformed soldiers. Of course our accoutrements are notthe kind he has been accustomed to, but I think they would suggest them. At least the smell of powder would be familiar, and the guns and canteensand knapsacks might awaken something in his memory that would revive hisentire training. I should like very much to make the experiment. "

After some further conversation, Lloyd was called up to meet theofficers, and it was agreed that Hero should be taken over to the camp fora trial on the day the sham battle was to take place. 

"The day has not yet been definitely determined, " said the Colonel, "butI'll send you word as soon as it is. By the way, my orderly was once ayoung French officer, and often talks of the French army. He'll welcomeHero like a long-lost brother, for he has a soft spot in his heart foranything connected with his motherland. Ill send him over either thisevening or to-morrow. "

That evening the orderly rode over to bring word that the sham battlewould take place the following Thursday, and they were all invited towitness it. Hero's trial would take place immediately after the battle. While he stood talking to Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison, Lloyd and Kittycame running down the hill with Hero close behind them. 

The orderly turned with an exclamation of admiration as the dog cametoward him, and held out his hand with a friendly snap of the fingers. "Ah, old comrade, " he called out in French, in a deep, hearty voice. "Come, give me a greeting! I, too, am from the motherland. "

At sound of the familiar speech, the dog went forward, wagging his tailviolently, as if he recognised an old acquaintance. Then he stopped andsnuffed his boots in a puzzled manner, and looked up wistfully into theorderly's face. It was a stranger he gazed at, yet voice, speech, andappearance were like the man's who had trained him from a puppy, and hegave a wriggle of pleasure when the big hand came down on his head, andthe deep voice spoke caressingly to him. 

When the orderly mounted his horse. Hero would have followed had not theLittle Colonel called him sharply, grieved and jealous that he should showsuch marked interest in a stranger. He turned back at her call, but stoodin the road, looking after his new-found friend, till horse and riderdisappeared down the bridle-path that led through the deep woods to theother camp. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE SENTRY'S MISTAKE

Promptly on Thursday, at the time appointed, the orderly rode over to CampWalton to escort the party back to the camp at Calkin's Cliff. The fourboys led the way on their ponies; the rest piled into a great farm wagonfilled with straw, that had been procured from one of the neighbouringfarms for the occasion. 

Hero followed obediently, when the Little Colonel ordered him to jump upbeside her, but he turned longing eyes on the orderly, whom he hadwelcomed with strong marks of pleasure. It was only their second meeting, but Hero seemed to regard him as an old friend. He leaped up to lick hisface, and bounded around him with quick, short barks of pleasure that, forthe moment, gave Lloyd a jealous pang. She was hurt that Hero should showsuch an evident desire to follow him in preference to her. 

"I don't see what makes Hero act so, " she said to Mrs. Walton. 

"The orderly certainly must bear a strong resemblance to some one whomHero knew and loved in France, " she replied. "You have owned him less thantwo months, and he has been away from France only a year, you mustremember. Everything must seem strange to him here. He was not brought upto play with children, as many St. Bernards are. 

"The other night, at the entertainment, I wondered many times what Heromust think of his strange surroundings. His life here is different inevery way from all that he has been used to. A dog trained from puppyhoodto the experiences of soldier life would naturally miss the excitement ofcamp as much as a soldier suddenly retired to the life of a privatecitizen. "

"Oh, deah!" sighed Lloyd, "I wish he could talk. I'd ask him if he isunhappy. _Are_ you homesick, old fellow?"

She took his great head between her little hands and looked earnestly intohis eyes as she asked the question. 

"_Do_ you wish you were back in the French army, following the ambulancesand hunting the wounded soldiahs? Seems to me you ought to like it so muchbettah heah in Kentucky, with, nothing to do but play and eat and sleep, and be loved by everybody. "

"But an army dog can't get away from his training any easier than a man, "laughed the orderly, as he rode on beside the wagon. "It is a part of him. Hero is a good soldier, and no doubt feels a greater joy in obeying whathe considers a call to duty, than in riding in the wagon at his ease, withthe ladies. "

"You know a great deal, perhaps, of this society for the training ofambulance dogs, " said Mrs. Walton. 

"Yes, " he replied. "I am deeply interested in it. My brother at home keepsme informed of its movements, and has written me much of Herr Bungartz'smethods. I think I shall have no difficulty in putting the dog through hismanoeuvres, especially as he seems to recognise me and in some way connectme with his past life. "

Fife and drum welcomed the party as they drove into camp, and the partywere at once escorted to seats where they could watch the drill and thesham battle. It was a familiar scene to the General's little family, andto Miss Allison, who had visited more than one army post. But some of thegirls put their fingers in their ears when the noise of the rapid firingbegan. Hero was greatly excited. 

Soon after the noise of the sham battle ceased, the field was prepared forthe dog's trial. Men were hidden behind logs, stretched out in ditches, and left lying as if dead, in the dense thicket that skirted one side ofthe field, for wounded animals, either men or beasts, instinctively crawlaway to die under cover. 

With hands almost trembling in their eagerness, Lloyd fastened the flaskand shoulder-bags on the dog. He seemed to know that something unusual wasexpected of him, and wagged his tail so violently that he nearly upset theLittle Colonel. He watched every movement of the orderly, who, with a RedCross brassard on his arm, was acting as chief of the improvised ambulancecorps. 

"Will you give him the order, Miss Lloyd?" he asked, turning politely tothe little girl. Lloyd had pictured this moment several times on the wayover, thinking how proud she would be to stand up like a real LittleColonel and send her orders ringing over the field before the wholeadmiring regiment. But now that the moment had actually come, she blushedand shrank back, timidly. She was not sure that she could say the strangeFrench words just as the Major had taught them to her, when such a crowdof soldiers were standing by to hear. 

"Oh, _you_ do it, please, " she asked. 

"If you will tell me the exact words he has been accustomed to hearing, "answered the orderly. 

Lloyd stammered them out, greatly embarrassed, feeling that herpronunciation must have grown quite faulty from lack of practice under theMajor's careful training. The orderly repeated them in an undertone, then, turning to Hero, gave the order in a clear, deep voice, that seemed tothrill the dog with its familiar ring. Instantly at the sound he startedout across the field. Not a thing that had been taught him in his long, careful training was forgotten. 

The first man he found was lying in a ditch, apparently desperatelywounded. Hero allowed him to help himself from his flask, and drag abandage from the bags on his back. Then, standing with his hind feet inthe ditch and his fore feet resting on the bank above him, he gave voiceuntil the men by the ambulance heard him, and came toward him carrying astretcher. 

"Look at him!" exclaimed Mrs. Walton, who with the party and several ofthe officers had walked down to the hospital tent. "He knows he has donehis duty well. Did you ever see a dog manifest such delight! He fairlywriggles with joy!"

The praise of the men bearing the stretcher, and especially of theorderly, seemed to send the dog into a transport of happiness. The secondman lay far on the outskirts of the field, hidden by a thicket of hazelbushes. This time Hero's frantic barking brought no reply. The men actedas if deaf to his appeals of help, so in a few minutes, evidently thinkingthey were beyond the range of his voice, he picked up the man's cap in hismouth, and ran back at the top of his speed. 

"Good dog!" said the orderly, taking the cap he dropped at his feet. "Goback now and lead the way. "

"If that man had really been wounded, and had crawled under that thicket, "said Colonel Wayne, "we never could have found him alone. Only the senseof smell could lead to such a hiding-place. The ambulance might havepassed there a hundred times and never seen a trace of him. "

The hunt went on for some time; before it closed, every man personating akilled or wounded soldier was located and carried to the hospital tent. When the tired dog was finally allowed to rest, he dropped down at theorderly's feet, panting. 

"That, was certainly fine work, " said the Colonel, stooping to pat Hero'ssides. "I suppose nothing could induce you to give him up to the army?"he asked, turning to Lloyd. 

"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Lloyd, as if alarmed at the suggestion, andpressing Hero's head protectingly against her shoulder. If she had beenproud of him before, she was doubly proud of him now. He had won theadmiration of the entire regiment. Never had he been so praised andpetted. When Mrs. Walton called her party together for their homewarddrive, it was plain to be seen that Hero was loath to leave the camp. Aword from the orderly would have kept him, despite Lloyd's commands tojump up into the wagon. 

As the boys rode on ahead again, Keith said, "It does seem too bad toforce that dog into being a private citizen when he is a born soldier. "

"Did you hear what Colonel Wayne told mamma as we left?" asked Ranald. "Hetold her that it was reported that some of the animals had escaped fromthe circus that was in Louisville yesterday, and that a panther and someother kind of a beast had been seen in these woods. He laughed and askedher if she didn't want him to send a guard over to our camp. Of course hewas only joking, but when she saw that I had heard what he said, she toldme not to tell the girls; not to even mention such a thing, or they'd beso frightened they'd want to break camp and go straight home. "

"It would be fun to scare them, " said Rob, "but you'd better believe I'llnot say anything if there's any danger of having to go home sooner onaccount of it. "

"We've got to go day after to-morrow anyhow, " said Keith, gloomily. "Iwish I could miss another week of school, but I know papa wouldn't let me, even if the camp didn't break up. "

"Come on!" called Ranald, who had pushed on ahead. "Let's hurry back andhave a good swim before supper. "

Not satisfied with the excitement of the day, the girls were no sooner outof the wagon than some one started a wild game of prisoners' base. Thenthey played hide-and-seek among the rocks and trees around the waterfall, and while they were wiping their flushed faces, panting after the longrun, Kitty proposed that they should have a candy pulling. 

Dinah made the candy, but the girls pulled it, running a race to see whosewould be the whitest in a given time. Their arms ached long before theywere done. By the time the boys came stumbling up the hill from their longswim in the creek, it would be hard to say which group was most tired. 

"I'm sure we'll all want to turn in early to-night, " said Mrs. Walton atsupper. Freddy was yawning widely, and Elise was almost asleep over herplate. "You are all tired. "

"All but Hero, " said Miss Allison, offering him a chicken bone. "He restedwhile the others played. You'd like to go through your game every day. Wouldn't you, old boy?"

There was no story-telling around the camp-fire that night. They gatheredaround it, even before the light died out in the sky. Ranald had hisguitar and Allison her mandolin, and they thrummed accompaniments awhilefor the others to sing. But a mighty yawn catching Margery in the middleof a verse, and Mrs. Walton discovering both Jamie and Freddy sound asleepon the rug beside her, she proposed that they all go to bed an hourearlier than usual. 

The Little Captain vowed he was too sleepy to blow a single toot on hisbugle, so they went to their tents without the usual sounding of taps. Itwas not long before every child was asleep, worn out by the day's hardplay. Mrs. Walton lay awake sometime listening to the sounds outside thetent. The crackling of underbrush and rustle of dry leaves was familiarenough in the daytime, but they seemed strangely ominous now that thelights were out. She could not help thinking of what the Colonel had toldher of the escaped panther. She imagined the panic it would make if itshould suddenly appear in their midst. Then she thought of Hero'sprotecting presence, and, raising herself on her elbow, she looked acrossthe tent to where she knew he lay asleep. At first she could not see eventhe ruff of white that made the collar around his tawny throat, for themoon had slipped behind a cloud, but as she raised herself on her elbow, and peered intently through the darkness, the faint misty light shone outagain, and she saw Hero plainly, the Little Colonel's outstretched handresting on his broad back. Then she lay down again, this time to sleep, and soon all the little camp was wrapped in the peace and rest of perfectsilence. 

Half an hour later Hero lifted his head from between his paws andlistened. Something seemed calling him. He did not know what. Being only adog, he could not analyse the thoughts passing through his brain. Arestlessness seized him. He longed to be back among the familiar sightsand sounds of soldier life. This little play camp, where children tried tomake him romp continually, was not home. Locust was not home. This strangenew country full of unfamiliar faces and foreign voices was not home. Butthe orderly's voice reminded him of it. Over there were bearded men anddeep voices, and strong hands, guns, and the smell of powder; fife anddrum, and canteens and knapsacks; things that he had seen daily in hissoldier life. 

Was it some call to duty that thrilled him, or only a homesick longing? Ashe listened with head up, there came ringing, clear and silvery throughthe night, the bugle notes from the other camp. At the first sound Herowas on his feet. He moved noiselessly toward the tent flap, only partiallyfastened, and flattening himself against the ground wriggled out. 

And if he gave no thought to the little mistress, dreaming inside thetent, if he left without regret the life of ease and loving care to whichshe had brought him, it was not because he was ungrateful, but because hedid not understand. To him his old life woke and called him in the bugle'sblowing. To him duty did not mean soft cushions, and idle days, and thefollowing of a happy-hearted child at play. It meant long marches and theguarding of ambulances and the rescue of the dead and dying. A truesoldier's heart beat in the dog's shaggy body, and, obedient to hisinstinct and training, he answered the summons when it sounded. With long, swinging steps he set out in the direction of the bugle-call, taking theroad through the woods that the wagon had travelled that day, and downwhich he had watched the orderly disappear. No, not deserting his duty, but, as he understood it, hurrying back, with faithful heart to the causethat had always claimed him. 

Now and then the moon, coming out fitfully from, behind the clouds, shoneon his great tawny body, touching the white curls of his ruff with a lineof silver. Then he would be lost in darkness again. But he swung onunerringly, until he was almost in sight of the camp. A little farther ona sentry paced up and down the picket-line that ran along the edge of thewoods. Hero travelled on toward him, the dry dead leaves rustling underhis paws, and now and then a twig crackling with his weight. 

The sentry paused and, listened, wondering what kind of an animal wascoming toward him in the darkness. 

"Halt! Who goes there?" he called, sharply. The moon, peeping out at thatinstant, seemed to magnify the size of the great creature in his path. Hethought of the panther and the other wild beast, whatever it was, supposed to be roaming about in the woods. Then the moon disappeared assuddenly as it had lighted up the scene, and the big paws still patteredon toward him in the darkness, regardless of his repeated challenge. 

As the underbrush crackled again with the weight of the great body nowalmost upon him, the sentry raised his rifle. A shot rang out, arousingthe camp not yet fully settled to sleep. The echo bounded back from thestartled hills, and rolled away over the peaceful farms and orchards, growing fainter and fainter, until only a whisper of it reached the whitetent where the Little Colonel lay dreaming. Then the moon shone out again, and the sentry, going a few paces forward, looked down in horror at thesilent form stretched out at his feet. 

CHAPTER XVI

"TAPS"

The corporal of the guard went running in the direction of the shot, andhere and there an inquiring head, was thrust out of a tent. 

"Only a dog shot, sir, " he was heard to call out in answer to someofficer's question, as he passed back down the line. "Sentry took him fora wild beast escaped from the show. "

Somebody laughed in reply, and the men who had been aroused by the noiseturned over and went to sleep. They did not know that the corporal hurriedon down to the guard-house, and that as a result of his report there was ahasty summons for the surgeon. They did not know that it was Hero whom thesentry bent over, gulping down a feeling in his throat that nearly chokedhim, as he saw the blood welling out of the dog's shaggy white breast, andslowly stiffening the silky hair of his beautiful yellow coat. 

The surgeon knelt down beside the dog, and as the clouds hid the moonagain, he turned the light of his lantern on the wound for a carefulexamination. 

"That was a cracking good shot, Bently, " he said. "He never knew whatstopped him. "

The sentry turned his head away. "I wouldn't have been the one to takethat dog's life for anything in the world!" he exclaimed. "I'd pretty nearas soon have killed a man. It never entered my head that any tame animalwould come leaping out of the woods that way at this time of night. Heloomed up nearly as big as a lion when the moon shone out on him. The nextminute it was all dark again, and I heard his big soft feet come patteringthrough the leaves, straight on toward me. It flashed over me that it mustbe one of those escaped circus animals, so I just let loose and blazedaway at him. "

The surgeon stood up and looked down at the still form at his feet. "It'stoo bad, " he said. "He was a grand old dog, the finest St. Bernard I eversaw. How that little girl loved him! It will just about break her heartwhen she finds out what's happened to him. "

"Don't!" begged the sentry, huskily. "Don't say anything like that. I feelbad enough about it now, goodness knows, without your harrowing up myfeelings, talking of the way _she's_ going to feel. "

As the surgeon started on, the sentry stopped him. "For heaven's sake, Mac, don't leave him lying there on the picket-line where I've got to seehim every time I pass. Send somebody to take him away. I'm all unnerved. Ifeel as if I'd shot one of my own comrades. "

The surgeon looked at him curiously and walked on. Nobody was sent to takethe dog away, but a little while later the sentry was relieved from duty, and another soldier kept guard over the silent camp, pacing back and forthpast the Red Cross Hero, sleeping his last sleep under the light of thesentinel stars. 

Somebody draped a flag across him before the camp was astir next morning. "Well, why not?" the man asked when he was joked about paying so muchattention to a dead dog. "Why not? He was a war dog, wasn't he? It's nomore than his due. I was the man he found in the ditch yesterday. As faras his intention and good will went, he did as much to save me as if I hadbeen really lying there a wounded soldier. When he came leaping down thereinto the ditch after me, licking my face in such a friendly fashion andholding still so that I could help myself to the flask and bandages, Ithought how grateful a fellow would feel to him if he were really rescuedby him that way. It was all make-believe to me, but it was dead earnest tothe dog, and he did his part as faithfully as any soldier who ever wore auniform. "

"You're right, " said a young lieutenant, sitting near. "If for no otherreason than that he was in the service of the Red Cross, he has a right tothe respect of every man that calls himself a soldier, no matter what flaghe follows. "

Later in the morning, when the orderly rode into the little picnic camp, the girls were away. They were down by the waterfall digging ferns andmosses to take home. "We are thinking of breaking up camp this afternoon, "Mrs. Walton told him. "The weather looks so threatening that I have sentfor the wagonette to come for us, and I was about to send over to yourcamp to see if Hero had wandered back there. He has not been seen sincelast night. He was lying by Lloyd's cot just before I went to sleep, butthis morning he is nowhere to be found. Lloyd is distressed. I told herthat probably the drill yesterday awakened all his love for the old life, and that he might have been drawn back to it. Was I right? Have you seenhim?"

"Yes, " said the orderly, hesitating. "I saw him, but I find it hard totell you how and where, Mrs. Walton. " He paused again, and then hurriedon with the explanation, as if anxious to have it over as soon aspossible. 

"He was shot last night by mistake on the picket-line. The sentry is allbroken up over it, poor fellow, and the whole camp regrets it more than Ican tell. You see, after yesterday's performance we almost claimed the dogas one of us. Colonel Wayne has made me the bearer of his deepest regrets. He especially deplores the occurrence on account of the dog's littlemistress, knowing what a great grief it will be to her. He wishes, if youthink it will be any consolation to her, to give Hero a military funeral, and bury him with the honours due a brave soldier. "

"I am sure that Lloyd will want that, " said Mrs, Walton. "She willappreciate it deeply, when she understands what a mark of respect to Herosuch an attention would be. Tell Colonel Wayne, please, that I gladlyaccept the offer in her behalf, and will send Ranald over later, toarrange for it. "

The orderly rode away, and Mrs. Walton turned to her sister, exclaiming, "Poor little Lloyd! I confess I am not brave enough to face her grief whenshe first hears the news. You will have to tell her, Allison. You know herso much better than I. We might as well hurry the preparations forleaving. No one will care to stay a moment longer, now this has happened. It will cast a gloom over the entire party. "

"Maybe it would be better not to tell her until after she gets home, "suggested Miss Allison. She had soothed the childish griefs of nearlyevery child in the Valley, at some time or another, but she felt that thiswas the most serious one that had fallen to her lot to comfort. 

"I'm sure it would be impossible to get Lloyd away from here without Hero, unless she knew, " was the answer. "I heard her tell Kitty this morningthat nobody could make her go without him. She said if he wasn't back bythe time we were ready to start, we could go on without her, and she wouldhunt for him if it took all fall. "

While they were still discussing it the boys came running back to campmuch excited. They had met the orderly. 

"Oh, the poor dog!" mourned Keith. "What a shame for the poor old fellowto be shot down that way. It seems almost as bad as if it had been one ofus boys that was killed. "

Ranald and Rob joined in with praise of his many lovable traits, talkingof his death as if it were a lifelong friend they had lost; but Malcolmturned away with an anxious glance to the woods, where he could hear thelaughing voices of the girls. 

"Poor little Princess Winsome, " he thought. "It will nearly break herheart, " and he wished with all the earnestness of the real Sir Feal, thatby some knightly service, no matter how hard, he could save his littlefriend from this sorrow. 

The girls came strolling up, presently, so occupied with their spoils thatno one noticed the boy's serious faces but Lloyd. The moment she caughtMalcolm's sympathetic glance she was sure something had happened to Hero. 

"Oh, what is it?" she began, the tears gathering in her eyes as she feltthe unspoken, sympathy of the little group. Leaving Mrs. Walton to tellthe other girls, Miss Allison drew Lloyd aside, saying as she led her downtoward the spring, an arm around her waist, "I have a message for you, Lloyd, from Colonel Wayne. Let's go down to the rocks by ourselves. "

A sympathetic silence fell on the little circle left behind as they heardLloyd cry out, "Shot my dog? Shot _Hero?_ Oh, he ought to be killed! Howcould he do such a cruel thing!"

"But he feels dreadfully about it, " said Miss Allison. "The orderly saidthat, big, strong man though he was, the tears stood in his eyes when hesaw what he had done, and he kept saying, 'I wouldn't have done it for theworld. '"

Nearly all the girls were crying by this time, and Malcolm turned his headso that he could not see the fair little head pressed against MissAllison's shoulder, as she clung to her sobbing. 

"Think how it must have hurt poah Hero's feelin's, " Lloyd was saying, "togo back to their camp so trustin' and happy, thinkin' the men would be soglad to see him, and that he was doin' his duty, and then to have one ofthem stand up and send a bullet through his deah, lovin' old heart. Oh, Ican't _beah_ it, " she screamed. "Oh, I can't! I can't! It seems as if itwould kill me to think of him lyin' ovah there all cold and stiff, withthe blood on his lovely white and yellow curls, and know that he'll nevah, nevah again jump up to lick my hands, and put his paws on my shouldahs. He'll nevah come to meet me any moah, waggin' his tail and lookin' up intomy face with his deah lovin' eyes. Oh, Miss Allison! I can't stand it!It's just breakin' my heart!" Burying her face in Miss Allison's lap, shesobbed and cried until her tears were all spent. 

It was a subdued little party that rode back to the Valley, a few hourslater. Not only sympathy for Lloyd kept them quiet, but each one mournedthe loss of the gentle, lovable playfellow who had come to such anuntimely end after this week of happy camp life with them. 

 * * * * *

Under the locusts that evening, just as the sun was going down, came thetread of many marching feet. It was the tramp, tramp of the soldiers whowere bringing home the Little Colonel's Hero, All the men who had beenmost interested in his performances the day before, had volunteered tofollow Colonel Wayne, and the long line made an imposing showing, as itstretched up the avenue after him. 

Lloyd watched the approach from her seat on the porch beside her father. All the camping party were waiting with her, except the four boys who rodeat the head of the procession, Ranald and Malcolm first, then Rob andKeith. Lloyd hid her eyes as Lad and Tarbaby came into view behind them. 

"Look, " said her father gently, pointing to the flag-draped burden theydrew. "How much better it was for Hero to have been shot by a soldier andbrought home with military honours, than to have met the fate of anordinary dog--been poisoned, or mangled, by a train, as might havehappened, or even died of a painful, feeble old age. The Major would havechosen this? so would Hero, if he could have understood. "

There was more comfort in that thought than in anything that had been saidto her before, and Lloyd wiped her eyes, and sat up to watch the ceremonythat followed, with a feeling of pride that made her almost cheerful. 

On they came to the beat of the muffled drum, halting under a greatlocust-tree that stood by itself on the lawn, in sight of the librarywindows, like a giant sentinel. There the boys dismounted to lower Herointo the grave that Walker and Alec had just finished digging. Then thecoloured men, spreading the sod quickly back in place, stepped aside fromthe low mound they had made, and Lloyd saw that it was smooth and green. She started violently when the soldiers, drawn up in line, fired a partingvolley over it, but sat quietly back again when the Little Captain steppedforward and raised his bugle. The sun was sinking low behind the locusts, and in the golden glow filling the western sky, he softly sounded taps. "Lights out" now for the faithful old Hero! The last bugle-call thatsounded for him was in a foreign land, but it was not as a stranger and analien they left him. 

The flag he followed floats farther than the Stars and Stripes, waveswider than the banner of the Kaiser. It is a world-wide flag, that flag ofperpetual peace which bears the Red Cross of Geneva. In its shadow, whether on land or sea, all patriot hearts are at home, and under thatflag they left him. 

 * * * * *

A square white stone stands now under the locust where the Little Captainsounded taps at the close of that September day. On it gleams the RedCross, in whose service all of Hero's lessons had been learned. But thedaily sight of it from her bedroom window no longer brings pain to theLittle Colonel. Hero is only a tender memory now, and she counts the RedCross above him as another talisman, like the little ring and the silverscissors, to remind her that only through unselfish service to others canone reach the happiness that is highest and best. 

Time flies fast under the locusts. Sometimes to Papa Jack it seems onlyyesterday that she clattered up and down the wide halls with hergrandfather's spurs buckled to her tiny feet. But if he misses the charmof the baby voice that called to him then, or the childish mischievousnessof his Little Colonel, he finds a greater one in the flower-like beauty ofthe tall, slender girl who stands beside the gilded harp, and sings tohim softly in the candle-light. And it is Betty's song of service that isoftenest on her lips:

 "My godmother bids me spin, That my heart may not be sad; Sing and spin for my brother's sake, And the spinning makes me glad. "

She knows that she can never be a Joan of Arc or a Clara Barton, and hername will never be written in America's hall of fame, but with the sweetambition in her heart to make life a little lovelier for every one shetouches, she is growing up into a veritable Princess Winsome. 

Often as she sings, Betty closes her book to listen, thrilled with the oldfeeling that always comes with the music of the harp. It is as if she were"away off from everything, and high up where it is wide and open, andwhere the stars are. " The strange, beautiful thoughts she can find nowords for still dance on ahead, like shining will-'o-the-wisps, but sheknows that she shall surely find words for them some day, and that manybesides the Little Colonel will sing her verses and find comfort in hersongs. 

To both Betty and Lloyd the land of Someday and the happy land of Now lievery close together in their day-dreams, as side by side they go toschool these bright October mornings, or stroll slowly homeward in thegolden afternoons, under the shade of the friendly old locusts. 

THE END. 

Selections from L. C. Page & Company's Books for Girls

 * * * * *

=THE BLUE BONNET SERIES=

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $ 2. 00 Theseven volumes, boxed as a set 14. 00_

A TEXAS BLUE BONNET BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS. 

BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ. 

BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY BY LELA HORN RICHARDS. 

"Blue Bonnet has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, livelygirlishness and cannot but make friends with every one who meets herthrough these books about her. "--_Chicago Inter-Ocean. _

"Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls, the kind that one wouldlike to have in one's home. "--_New York Sun. _

THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS

(Trade Mark)

BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $2. 00_

THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES

(Trade Mark)

Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "TheLittle Colonel, " "Two Little Knights of Kentucky, " and "The GiantScissors, " in a single volume. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES:

Second Series (Trade Mark)

Tales about characters that appear in the Little Colonel Series. "OleMammy's Torment, " "The Three Tremonts, " and "The Little Colonel inSwitzerland. "

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING SCHOOL (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING (Trade Mark)

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM, MARY WARE (Trade Mark)

MARY WARE IN TEXAS

MARY WARE'S PROMISED LAND

_These thirteen volumes, boxed as A SET, $26. 00_

FOR PIERRE'S SAKE AND OTHER STORIES

_Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Billie Chapman $1. 75_

"'For Pierre's Sake, ' who works so hard to scrape together the penniesnecessary for a wreath for his brother's grave, 'The Rain Maker, ' whotries to bring rain to the drought stricken fields--these and many otherswill take their places in The Children's Hall of Fame, which exists in theheart of childhood. "--_Portsmouth (N. H. ) Herald_. 

THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART

_Cloth decorated, with special designs and illustrations_ $1. 25

This story of a little princess and her faithful pet bear, who finally_do_ discover "The Road of the Loving Heart, " is a masterpiece of sympathyand understanding and beautiful thought. 

=THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES=

_Each small 16mo, decorative boards, per volume $0. 75_

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING:

THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN. 

THE THREE WEAVERS:

A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS. 

KEEPING TRYST:

A TALE OF KING ARTHUR'S TIME. 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART

THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME:

A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG. 

THE JESTER'S SWORD

 * * * * *

THE LITTLE COLONEL'S GOOD TIMES BOOK

_Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $2. 50_

_Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold 6. 00_

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. 

"A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good timesshe has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were of AnnieFellows Johnston. "--_Buffalo Express_. 

 * * * * *

=HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES=

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS

Eleven Volumes

The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with "Queen Hildegarde" andending with "The Merryweathers, " make one of the best and most popularseries of books for girls ever written. 

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated per volume $1. 75_

_The eleven volumes boxed as a set $19. 25_

LIST OF TITLES

QUEEN HILDEGARDEHILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAYHILDEGARDE'S HOMEHILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORSHILDEGARDE'S HARVESTTHREE MARGARETSMARGARET MONTFORTPEGGYRITAFERNLEY HOUSETHE MERRYWEATHERS

 * * * * *

=HONOR BRIGHT SERIES=

BY LAURA E. RICHARDS

_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1. 75_

HONOR BRIGHT

"This is a story that rings as true and honest as the name of the youngheroine--Honor--and not only the young girls, but the old ones will findmuch to admire and to commend in the beautiful character ofHonor. "--_Constitution, Atlanta, Ga. _

HONOR BRIGHT'S NEW ADVENTURE

"Girls will love the story and it has plot enough to interest the olderreader as well. "--_St. Louis Daily Globe-Democrat. _

 * * * * *

SIX GIRLS

(60th thousand) BY FANNY BELLE IRVING. 

_Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by A. G. Learned $1. 65_

No book has enjoyed a steadier and longer popularity than "Six Girls, "written by a niece of Washington Irving. It has won its way by the bestkind of advertising--personal recommendations among readers. 

THREE HUNDRED THINGS A BRIGHT GIRL CAN DO

BY LILA ELIZABETH KELLEY. 

_Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by the author $2. 50_

A complete treasury of suggestions on games, indoor and outdoor sports, handiwork, embroidery, sewing and cooking, scientific experiments, puzzles, candy-making, home decoration, physical culture, etc. 

THE SECRET VALLEY

BY MRS. HOBART-HAMPDEN. 

_Cloth 12mo, illustrated, with color jacket $1. 75_

In addition to an excellent action story, young readers will find in thisbook descriptions of India, land of mystery, which are accurate andinteresting. 

SECRETS INSIDE

BY M. M. DANCY MCCLENDON. 

_Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Dean Freeman $1. 75_

"This is a story about girls for girls. The author has made a worthwhilecontribution to juvenile literature. "--_Rochester Sunday American. _

 * * * * *

THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES

600, 000 volumes of the "Captain January" Series have already been sold. 

"Mrs. Richards has made for herself a little niche apart in the literaryworld, from her delicate treatment of New England village life. "--_BostonPost. _

CAPTAIN JANUARY. _Star Bright Edition. _

_Profusely illustrated by Frank T. Merrill $1. 75_

STAR BRIGHT. A sequel to "Captain January. "

_Mrs. Richards' latest book uniform with above. $1. 75_

Wherein the Captain's little girl reaches the romantic period of hercareer, and faces the world. 

_The two volumes attractively boxed as a set. $3. 50_

 * * * * *

The following titles are illustrated by Frank T. Merrill

CAPTAIN JANUARY. _School Edition_

(285th thousand) _Net $1. 00_

MELODY. $1. 00

The Story of a Child. 

_Cloth decorative, illustrated by Frank T. Merrill, each $. 90_

MARIE. 

A companion to "Melody. "

ROSIN THE BEAU. 

A sequel to "Marie. "

SNOW WHITE;

Or, The House in the Wood. 

JIM OF HELLAS;

Or, in Durance Vile, and a companion story, "Bethesda Pool. "

"SOME SAY. "

And a companion story, "Neighbors in Cyrus. "

NAUTILUS. 

"'Nautilus' Is by far the best product of the author's powers. "--_BostonGlobe. _

ISLA HERON. 

This interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner. 

 * * * * *

BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES

BY HELEN KATHERINE BROUGHALL

_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $2. 00_

BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL

BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP

BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE

BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD

"Full of adventure--initiations, joys, picnics, parties, tragedies, vacation and all. Just what girls like, books in which 'dreams come true, 'entertaining 'gossipy' books overflowing with conversation. "--_Salt LakeCity Deseret News. _

High ideals and a real spirit of fun underlie the stories. They will be adecided addition to the bookshelves of the young girl for whom a holidaygift is contemplated. 

 * * * * *

=DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES=

BY MARION AMES TAGGART

_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $1. 75_

THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL

"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear littlemaid. "--_The Churchman. _

SWEET NANCY:

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL. 

"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but beelevating. "--_New York Sun. _

NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER

"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesometastes will enjoy. "--_Springfield Union. _

NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY

"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty ofpluck. "--_Boston Globe. _

NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS

"The story is refreshing. "--_-New York Sun. _

 * * * * *

=THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES=

BY ALICE E. ALLEN

_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume $1. 50_

JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY

These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories, combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from youngpeople for these two particular tales. 

THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy

"The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of human nature. It is so real that it touches the heart strings. "--_-New York Standard. _

MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL

A sequel to "Joe, the Circus Boy, " and "The Martie Twins. "

MARJORY AT THE WILLOWS

Continuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl. 

"Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins herlittle folk right down to this life of ours, in which she rangesvigorously and delightfully. "--_Boston Ideas. _

MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch

"Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells themstories that never fail to charm. "_--Madison Courier. _

MARJORY'S DISCOVERY

This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable andoriginal as any of the other creations of this writer of charming stories. We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthy minded Joe andsweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts the entire summer, in which all of the characters of the previous MARJORY-JOE storiesparticipate, and their happy times are delightfully depicted. 

 * * * * *

THE PEGGY RAYMOND SERIES

BY HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH

_Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume $1. 75_

PEGGY RAYMOND'S SUCCESS: OR, THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE. 

"It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knitshearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle totry carrying them out, and most of all it proves that hi daily life, threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears the mostordinary of material, but which in the end brings results stranger thanthe most thrilling fiction. "--_Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young People'sWeekly, Chicago. _

PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION

"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident. It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten theday. "--_Utica, N. Y. , Observer. _

PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS

"It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, naturaldevelopment, and a gentle earnestness of general tone. "--_The ChristianRegister, Boston. _

PEGGY RAYMOND'S FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE

"The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a most delightfulnarrative, especially for young people. It will also make the olderreaders feel younger, for while reading it they will surely live again inthe days of their youth. "--_Troy Budget. _

PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY

"The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesomeincidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion andleader. "--_World of Books. _

 * * * * *

THE HADLEY HALL SERIES

BY LOUISE M. BREITENBACH

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $1. 65_

ALMA AT HADLEY HALL

"The author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealingbook for girls. "--_Detroit Free Press. _

ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR

"It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls'books. "--_Boston Herald. _

ALMA'S JUNIOR YEAR. 

"The diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn, theIncidents are well developed and the action is never dull. "--_The BostonHerald. _

ALMA'S SENIOR YEAR

"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter. "--_BostonTranscript. _

 * * * * *

DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES

BY MARION AMES TAGGART

_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $1. 75_

THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL

"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear littlemaid"--_The Churchman. _

SWEET NANCY: THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL. 

"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but beelevating. "--_New York Sun. _

NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER

"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesometastes will enjoy. "--_Springfield Union. _

NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY

"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty ofpluck. "--_Boston Globe. _

NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS

"The story is refreshing. "--_New York Sun. _

 * * * * *

STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN

_Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated $1. 65_

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOKA LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCETHE CHRISTMAS PORRINGERTHE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDYPEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth NightCHILDREN'S STORIESTHE CIRCUS DWARF STORIESWHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLYTROUBADOUR TALES

"No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stirthe hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories soadmirably told by this author. "--_Louisville Daily Courier_. 

"Evaleen Stein's stories are music in prose--they are like pearls on achain of gold--each word seems exactly the right word in the right place;the stories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed. "--_TheLafayette Leader_. 

 * * * * *

Selections from L. C. Page & Company's Books for Boys

 * * * * *

FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES

_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by photographs, pervolume_ . . . _$2. 00_

BY CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON

("Uncle Chas. ")

_"If you see that it's by 'Uncle Chas, ' you know that it's historicallycorrect"--Review. _

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERSFAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFSFAMOUS SCOUTSFAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEAFAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDERFAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICAFAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory. 

FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY, First Series. 

_Cloth 12mo, illustrated from specially autographed photographs $2. 50_

FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY, Second Series. 

_A companion volume to the above $2. 50_

FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY, Third Series. 

_By Trentwell M. White $2. 50_

FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY, Fourth Series. 

_By Charles H. L. Johnston $2. 50_

FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY, Fifth Series. 

_By Leroy Atkinson $2. 50_

_The following except as otherwise noted $2. 00_

BY EDWIN WILDMAN

THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution tothe Monroe Doctrine)

THE BUILDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Monroe Doctrineto the Civil War)

FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil Warto Today)

FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY. --First Series

FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY. --Second Series

BY TRENTWELL M. WHITE

FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY. --Third Series $2. 50

BY HARRY IRVING SHUMWAY

FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY. --Fourth Series $2. 50

'These biographies drive home the truth that just as every soldier ofNapoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every Americanyoungster carries potential success under his hat. '

BY CHARLES LEE LEWIS

_Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis_

FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS

With a complete index. 

"In connection with the life of John Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, andother famous naval officers, he groups the events of the period in whichthe officer distinguished himself, and combines the whole into a colorfuland stirring narrative. "--_Boston Herald. _

 * * * * *

THE BOYS STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES

BY BURTON E. STEVENSON

_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1. 75_

THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND;

OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST

"The whole range of section railroading is covered in thestory. "--_Chicago Post. _

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER

"A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroadlife. "--_Congregationalist. _

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER

"It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves agood, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn. "--_Passaic News. _

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE;

OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM. 

"The story is intensely interesting. "--_Baltimore Sun. _

 * * * * *

THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES

Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls

_Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader_

_Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster jacket in full color$2. 00_

THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY

BY W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS. 

THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS

BY C. M. YONGE. 

ERLING THE BOLD

BY R. M. BALLYNTYNE. 

WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD;

OR, THE ADVENTURES OF RAOULF DE GYSSAGE. 

BY H. TURING BRUCE. 

"Tales which ring to the clanking of armour, tales of marches andcounter-marches, tales of wars, but tales which bring peace; a peace andcontentment in the knowledge that right, even in the darkest times, hassurvived and conquered. "--_Portland Evening Express. _

 * * * * *

THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES

BY HARRISON ADAMS

_Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $1. 65_

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS. 

THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE; OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLORADO; OR, BRAVING THE PERILS OF THE GRAND CANYON COUNTRY. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF KANSAS; OR, PRAIRIE HOME IN BUFFALO LAND. 

"Such books as these are an admirable means of stimulating among the youngAmericans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer ancestors andthe early days of the Republic. "--_Boston Globe. _

"Not only interesting, but instructive as well and shows the sterling typeof character which these days of self-reliance and trialproduced. "--_American Tourist, Chicago. _

"The stories are full of spirited action and contain much valuablehistorical information. Just the sort of reading a boy will enjoyimmensely. "--_Boston Herald. _

 * * * * *

MINUTE BOY SERIES

By James Otis and Edward Stratemeyer

_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, fully illustrated, per volume__$1. 50_

This series of books for boys needs no recommendation. We venture to saythat there are few boys of any age in this broad land who do not know andlove both these authors and their stirring tales. 

These books, as shown by their titles, deal with periods in the history ofthe development of our great country which are of exceeding interest toevery patriotic American boy--and girl. Places and personages ofhistorical interest are here presented to the young reader in story form, and a great deal of real, information is unconsciously gathered. 

THE MINUTE BOYS OF PHILADELPHIATHE MINUTE BOYS OF BOSTONTHE MINUTE BOYS OF NEW YORK CITYTHE MINUTE BOYS OF LONG ISLANDTHE MINUTE BOYS OF SOUTH CAROLINATHE MINUTE BOYS OF THE WYOMING VALLEYTHE MINUTE BOYS OF THE MOHAWK VALLEYTHE MINUTE BOYS OF THE GREEN MOUNTAINSTHE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILLTHE MINUTE BOYS OF LEXINGTONTHE MINUTE BOYS OF YORKTOWN