car. While it stops, I'll peep in,
and see where it's going to. Perhaps there's a name inside that tells."

And, with her usual rashness, Dotty stepped upon the platform of the
car, and looked in. What she expected to see she hardly knew,--perhaps
"Aunt Madge's House," in gold letters; but what she really saw was, "No
Smoking;" those two words, and nothing more.

"Well, who wants to smoke? I'm sure _I_ don't," thought Dotty,
disdainfully, and was turning to step off the platform, when Horace
Clifford seized her by the shoulder.

"Where did you come from, you runaway?" said he, gruffly.

Close beside him were Aunt Madge and Prudy; all three were getting out
of the car.

"Thank Heaven, one of them is found," cried Aunt Madge, her face very
pale, her large eyes full of trouble.

Prudy kissed and scolded in the same breath. "O, Dotty Dimple, you'd
better believe we're glad to see you?--but what a naughty girl! A pretty
race you've led Horace, and he just wild about Fly!"

"H'm! what'd he go off for, then, and leave me there, sitting on a piano
stool? S'pose I's going to sit there all day? Didn't I want to go home
as much as the rest of you."

"And how did you get home? I'd like to know that," said Horace, walking
on with great strides, and then coming back again to the "ladies;" for
his anxiety about his little sister would not allow him to behave
calmly.

"I rode."

"You weren't in the car _we_ came in."

"N-o; I just happened to be peeking in there you know. But I came in an
_omnibius_."

"It is wonderful," said Aunt Madge, looking puzzled, "that you ever knew
what omnibus to take."

Dotty looked down to see if her boot was buttoned, and forgot to look up
again. "Well, _I_ shouldn't have known one _omnibius_, as you call it,
from another," said Prudy, lost in admiration. "Why, Dotty, how bright
you are! And there we were, so afraid about you, and spoke to a
policeman to look you up."

"I wouldn't let a p'liceman catch _me_," said Dotty, tossing her head.
"But haven't you found Fly yet?"

They were at home by this time, and Horace was ringing the bell.

"No, the dear child is still missing; but the police are on her track,"
said Aunt Madge, looking at her watch. "It is now one o'clock. Keep a
good heart, Horace, my boy. John shall go straight to the telegraph
office, and wait there for a despatch. Don't you leave us, dear; we
can't spare you, and you can do no good."

Horace made no reply, except to