p his tail, and started off.

"No, no!" cried Joan. "You are not to go. You mast stay and take care of
the house, and bark if any one comes."

"You could scream, and that would do just as well," replied So-so, with
his tail still up.

"No, it wouldn't," cried little Joan.

"Yes, it would," reiterated So-so.

Whilst they were bickering, an old woman came up to the door; she had a
brown face, and black hair, and a very old red cloak.

"Good evening, my little dear," said she. "Are you all at home this fine
evening?"

"Only three of us," said Joan; "I, and my doll, and So-so. Mother' has
gone to the town on business, and we are taking care of the house, but
So-so wants to go after the bird we saw run into the corn."

"Was it a pretty bird, my little dear?" asked the old woman.

"It was a very curious one," said Joan, "and I should like to go after
it myself, but we can't leave the house."

"Dear, dear! Is there no neighbor would sit on the doorstep for you and
keep the house till you just slip down to the field after the curious
bird?" said the old woman.

"I'm afraid not," said little Joan. "Old Martha, our neighbor, is now
bedridden. Of course, if she had been able to mind the house instead of
us, it would have done just as well."

"I have some distance to go this evening," said the old woman, "but I do
not object to a few minutes' rest, and sooner than that you should lose
the bird I will sit on the doorstep to oblige you, while you run down to
the cornfield."

"But can you bark if any one comes?" asked little Joan. "For if you
can't, So-so must stay with you."

"I can call you and the dog if I see any one coming, and that will do
just as well," said the old woman.

"So it will," replied little Joan, and off she ran to the cornfield,
where, for that matter, So-so had run before her, and was bounding and
barking and springing among the wheat stalks.

They did not catch the bird, though they stayed longer than they had
intended, and though So-so seemed to know more about hunting than was
supposed.

"I dare say mother has come home," said little Joan, as they went back
up the field-path. "I hope she won't think we ought to have stayed in
the house."

"It was taken care of," said So-so, "and that must do just as well."

When they reached the house, the widow had not come home.

But the old woman had gone, and she had taken the quilted petticoat and
the duffle cloak, and the plum-cake from the top s