A Flight with the Swallows; Or, Little Dorothy's Dream

anon Percival, when he came into the

orothy Dormouse,

ttle girls roll up into a ball, and sleep away the

r all about my dream, Uncle Crannie.

I say, Dorothy, I have to talk seriously t

e's face, and saw that he rea

oldchester is not the right place for her to live in during the winter months. So poor Uncle Crannie will be lef

"I mean-I mean I don't want to lea

o. Perhaps, little Dorothy, neither mother nor I have taught you enough the meaning of the word duty. It means, what you owe to others of service or

will it take to get there,"

; it depends upon the weather, and upon how your mother bears the journey. You must ask God to-night to

le Crannie. Why won't you sta

was not here to prevent it; and what wo

ow," Dorothy said. "Ingleby sa

r, and oldest, in the cathedral chapter. But I wanted to tell you that at San Remo you will have playfellows-nice littl

THE YOU

to E

rls and boys," Dorothy said

y with them-Hoodman Blind, and Tom T

wrapped closely round her, she slipped down from her uncle's knee and took up

ther; ple

d the Canon, who had taken up the Times. "She h

her mother, cleari

chapter we left unfinished las

gift the youngest child may offer to her Father in heaven-the Father of the dear Lord Jesus Christ, who offered Himself in life and in death for the sinful, sad world He came to save. So Mrs. Acheson finish

anon's House, she makes a very pretty picture. She had long, silky, fair hair, which was not

on Dorothy's appearance. She wore a pretty white cashmere frock, with a wide rose-coloured sas

Nino was allowed to come into the nursery. He was a favour

n at last they had reached the nursery, Dorothy seated herself in the old rocking-chair, pu

I hate 'playmates,' as Uncle Crannie calls them. If I

e an odd child, for when the little Miss Thompsons and Master Benson

he got up, and throwing her arms round her old friend's neck, she sa

nstead of nearly eight years old, and brushed and combed the silky hair with great pride and pleasure. Dorothy's face was rather too t

nd to be roused from her dreams;" while Master Benson went away from the birthday party declaring it

t that time her uncle, Canon Percival, went to live in Canon's House, at Coldchester, and invit

d to call her-set these preconceived notions at defiance. She was quiet and gentle, and she and her uncle Cranstone-Crannie, as she called him-were great friends. She would sit on one of the red leather chairs by her uncle, at his great writing table, and draw pictures by the hour of b

he old vergers, though they would say, one to the oth

e ain't enough of young life about her. It's

orothy wanted companions; and when she got to t

th of France and Italy very quickly, it is true; but they are not like

to have a little travelling ulster and warm hat, like her mistress's, and Puff and Muff had to be settled comfortably in their new quarters; for though they did not sleep in the nursery, they were there all day, and were carried about t

ething about going away to die. Could these words possibly refer to her mother? Poor little girl! She had lived so securely with her mother, and had never

asleep in the inner nursery, she heard h

that her mamma is so ill.

the reply. "Miss Dorothy is not childli

thfully; "a dear, sweet lamb. I suppose you like rampaging, noisy chi

, as well as themselves. But there! it's not the poor child's fault; ever

our own business. If you are such a blind bat as not to see wha

e nursery. "As I said, it's not the child's fault; but it would be

startled by the appearance of a l

choking voice, "is-my-mamma

hakes her rather. But, bless your little h

ng, Dorothy had thrown her

poiled child?-

ing could spoil you. There, there; le

ad left her at last, she buried her fac

die? And I am such a spoiled child. Oh dear, oh

re, a glimpse of their true selves, and are saddened at the sight, with what result

e who have left childhood far behind-only one way-