ust as good then."

"Yes, and we can eat cake for dessert," and the pie was again placed in
the oven.

Not long after, a rapping was heard at the side porch. "Who in the world
can that be around there!" exclaimed Dimple. "Go and see, Bubbles."

Bubbles looked out, cautiously, for it was not the usual place for any
one to make an appearance. Presently she came back with big eyes and a
somewhat scared expression. "Hit's a man, Miss Dimple," she said, in an
excited whisper, "with a gre't big haid an' long hair, an' somethin' on
his back."

Florence and Dimple looked at each other. "Let's peep and see,"
whispered the latter, as the rapping, which had ceased, began again.

They peeped timidly through the shutters. "He looks queer," said Dimple,
"maybe he is crazy."

"Oh!" cried Florence, with a stifled scream, "maybe he is an escaped
lunatic. Dimple, let's lock all the doors, and hide," and the two ran
into the kitchen, barring and locking the door, and then raced upstairs
as fast as they could go, with Bubbles close following at their heels.

Florence buried her face in the pillows and covered up her head with the
bed clothes; Bubbles crawled under the bed, then, as the rapping
continued louder than before, interspersed with calls of "Hey, there!
Hey, there!" Dimple, feeling very brave, opened the window and cried
out, "Go away!" then she shut down the window with a slam, and sprang
into the middle of the room with very red cheeks and a beating heart.

After a little time all was quiet, and the three timidly ventured
downstairs to find the pie baked to such a crisp brownness, that it
barely escaped being called black. It was set aside to cool, and after a
short parley, the children set out to reconnoitre, armed with such
weapons as they thought most useful. Bubbles carried an axe, Florence a
bottle of ammonia, which she meant to throw in the face of the intruder
"to take his breath away," she declared; and Dimple bore a long rope and
a pair of large scissors. She intended, she said, to snip at the man if
he came near her, and, when he was overpowered by Florence's ammonia,
to bind him hand and foot with the rope.

But, after a long and thorough search, no one was found about the
premises, and they all returned to the house to eat the "cobbler," which
by this time was cool.

"It doesn't taste like Sylvy's," said Dimple. "I believe I forgot to put
any salt in the crust, and where it isn't hard it is tough; there! I