Under the Lilacs | Page 5

to see if the queer dog
was coming again.
"There! now I'd like to see any one take my cake away," said Bab,
defiantly crunching her half of the pie-crust B.
"Or mine either," coughed Betty, choking over a raisin that wouldn't go
down in a hurry.
"We might as well clear up, and play there had been an earthquake,"
suggested Bab, feeling that some such convulsion of Nature was
needed to explain satisfactorily the demoralized condition of her
family.

"That will be splendid. My poor Linda was knocked right over on her
nose. Darlin' child, come to your mother and be fixed," purred Betty,
lifting the fallen idol from a grove of chickweed, and tenderly brushing
the dirt from Belinda's heroically smiling face.
"She'll have croup to-night as sure as the world. We'd better make up
some squills out of this sugar and water," said Bab, who dearly loved to
dose the dollies all round.
"P'r'aps she will, but you needn't begin to sneeze yet awhile. I can
sneeze for my own children, thank you, ma'am," returned Betty,
sharply, for her usually amiable spirit had been ruffled by the late
occurrences.
"I didn't sneeze! I've got enough to do to talk and cry and cough for my
own poor dears, without bothering about yours," cried Bab, even more
ruffled than her sister.
"Then who did? I heard a real live sneeze just as plain as anything," and
Betty looked up to the green roof above her, as if the sound came from
that direction.
A yellow-bird sat swinging and chirping on the tall lilac-bush, but no
other living thing was in sight. Birds don't sneeze, do they?" asked
Betty, eying little Goldy suspiciously.
"You goose! of course they don't."
"Well. I should just like to know who is laughing and sneezing round
here. "May be it is the dog," suggested Betty looking relieved.
"I never heard of a dog's laughing, except Mother Hubbard's. This is
such a queer one, may be he can, though. I wonder where he went to?"
and Bab took a survey down both the side-paths, quite longing to see
the funny poodle again.
"I know where I 'm going to," said Betty, piling the dolls into her apron
with more haste than care. "I'm going right straight home to tell Ma all

about it. I don't like such actions, and I 'm afraid to stay."
"I ain't; but I guess it is going to rain, so I shall have to go any way,"
answered Bab, taking advantage of the black clouds rolling up the sky,
for she scorned to own that she was afraid of any thing.
Clearing the table in a summary manner by catching up the four corners
of the cloth, Bab put the rattling bundle into her apron, flung her
children on the top and pronounced herself ready to depart. Betty
lingered an instant to pick up and ends that might be spoilt by the rain,
and, when she turned from taking the red halter off the knocker, two
lovely pink roses lay on the stone steps.
"Oh, Bab, just see! Here's the very ones we wanted. Wasn't it nice of
the wind to blow 'em down?" she called out, picking them up and
running after her sister, who had strolled moodily along, still looking
about for her sworn foe, Sally Folsom. The flowers soothed the feelings
of the little girls, because they had longed for them, and bravely
resisted the temptation to climb up the trellis and help themselves, since
their mother had forbidden such feats, owing to a fall Bab got trying to
reach a honeysuckle from the vine which ran all over the porch.
Home they went and poured out their tale, to Mrs. Moss's great
amusement; for she saw in it only some playmate's prank, and was not
much impressed by the mysterious sneeze and laugh.
"We'll have a grand rummage Monday, and find out what is going on
over there," was all she said. But Mrs. Moss could not keep her promise,
for on Monday it still rained, and the little girls paddled off to school
like a pair of young ducks, enjoying every puddle they came to, since
India-rubber boots made wading a delicious possibility. They took their
dinner, and at noon regaled a crowd of comrades with an account of the
mysterious dog, who appeared to be haunting the neighborhood, as
several of the other children had seen him examining their back yards
with interest. He had begged of them, but to none had he exhibited his
accomplishments except Bab and Betty; and they were therefore much
set up, and called him "our dog" with an air. The cake transaction
remained a riddle, for Sally Folsom solemnly declared that she was

playing tag in Mamie Snow's barn at