'What a sweet child your little
one is!'" Rock said this very affectedly, and the girls laughed. "And
you know," Rock went on, "they didn't know a thing about me; they just
said it to make mamma feel pleased, and that's what I call flattery."

"Oh, yes; I think I see," said Dimple.

The three days that followed were very merry ones for the children. They
frolicked from morning till night, and did more wonderful things than
ever they had dreamed of doing before.

Rock was the nicest sort of comrade, and they got along without any
fusses whatever. Sunday was their last day together, for Florence was
to go the next day, too, under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Heath Dallas,
and her trunk was standing, packed, ready to be sent.

"Won't we have a pew full this morning?" said Dimple, at the breakfast
table. "Five people. Rock, you must sit between Florence and me. I can
sit next to mamma, and Florence next to papa."

"Oh, no; let me sit by auntie," said Florence.

"Very well," said Dimple. "I can sit by papa just as well, and if I get
sleepy I can tumble over on him."

Papa laughed and said it was a pleasant prospect for him.

The church windows were open, a soft breeze fluttered the leaves outside
and the slow rustle of fans fluttered bonnet strings inside.

Dimple leaned her head back against the pew, and looked out at the white
clouds drifting across the sky, so dreamily and softly; she heard the
birds singing in the trees, and now and then came back to a
consciousness of the minister's voice, and she caught a sentence here
and there; but she could not fix her attention on the sermon at all; she
was thinking of the dreaded to-morrow that would take her playmates
away from her. The quiet and solemnity of the place only added to the
sadness of her thoughts, and as the last hymn was being sung, the tears
gathered in her eyes and dropped silently down on her book.

Finally she could stand it no longer, but slipped down on her knees,
buried her face in the cushions, and fairly sobbed.

No one knew what was the matter, and Mrs. Dallas looked distressed,
fearing she was ill. Mr. Dallas leaned down toward her, and whispered,
"Are you ill, Dimple?"

But she shook her head, and when the hymn was ended, he drew her close
to him, and put his arm around her, while she kept her face hidden on
his shoulder.

No one could tell what ailed her, as every question only brought a fresh
burst of tears, and she walked home in silence.