“CARROTS.”

She looked more like a little princess than
ever. She was dressed to go down to the draw-
ing-room before dinner —all white embroidery
and lace and rose-colored ribbons. Floss and
Carrots looked at her with a sort of dazzled ad-
miration, mingled with shy bewilderment. It all
seemed more of a mistake than ever. Sybil
was evidently not expecting them. If only the
railway station had not been so dreadfully far
away, Floss felt as if she would have liked to
take Carrots by the hand, and go away back
again, all the long, weary way to Sandyshore !

But Carrots’s faith in auntie and Sybil was
unshaken, and his childlike confidence less
susceptible of chill. Partly from mortification,
partly to hide that she was crying, Floss stood
perfectly silent; but Carrots pressed forward.

“Tt is Flossie and me, Sybil. Don’t you re-
member us? We've walked such a long way,
and there was nobody to meet us at the station,
and we are so cold and so hungry!”

Sybil gave a sort of leap into the air..
“Floss and Carrots!” she cried. “O mother,