"
He had not meant it unkindly, but he had offended little Dollie.
"I WOULDN'T feel lost outside of our garden any more than you would,
Harry Grafton, so now!" she had cried.
"Don't you mind, Dollie," the boy had answered, but Dollie DID mind very
much.
She had no thought as to where she was going when she ran from the
garden, and it was only chance that led her to the grove.
She ran to the bridge and stood watching the rippling brook, as it
rushed beneath it.
Softly she crooned a little tune, for wee Dollie was never long unhappy.
She had almost forgotten how vexed she had been, and she laughed as she
saw small bubbles sailing, sailing away to the meadow. Softly she
hummed, and then little words, describing what she saw, fitted quaintly
into the droll melody--
"See the pretty bubbles, bubbles,
Riding on the little brook;
See the spiders try to catch them,
And old Mr. Toady Frog sings
'Po-dunk!' and jumps down deep.
Oh, green old Mr. Toady Frog--
There's Blanche's teacher! I'll ask her, and p'raps she'll say 'yes.'"
A slender young woman with a gentle, smiling face, came along the path,
and stepped upon the bridge.
She wondered who the tiny girl might be, until Dollie turned, and gave
her a sunny smile.
"Oh, I wanted to see you this very minute!" cried Dollie; "I want you to
tell mama I'm big 'nough to go to school. Will you, please, Miss
Sterling. I'll LOVE you, if you will!"
The young girl was tempted to laugh, until she saw the red lips quiver.
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