ms
OX

Cs

“CARROTS.”

said. ‘Many people come here for only the

very worst of the winter, and that is about over

”

now.

But even this did not satisfy me. I was
certain something was wrong with Doll and
Dot; and I wasted, I should be ashamed to
say how many hours gazing out of the win-
dow in hopes of catching sight of the familiar
little figures.

At last one day, when I had almost left off
hoping ever to see them again, suddenly so
figures appeared on the Esplanade, a stone’s
throw from our window.

Who were they? Could it be—yes, it
must be ove of the trots, led by, not Bessie;
no, this maid was a stranger. Where could
Bessie be? And oh, where was my other
little trot? For, even at some yards’ dis-
tance, I saw something sadly different in the
appearance of the one little figure, slowly com-
ing along in our direction. It was dressed —
hat, coat, gloves, socks and all — it was dressed

in deep mourning.