imple. "She lives in Baltimore and she
came here yesterday."

"Why, I live in Baltimore," said Rock. "What street do you live on,
Florence?"

Florence told him, and they found it was in the next street to that on
which Rock lived, so they all began to feel like old friends.

"If I had my scroll saw here, I could make you each a chair for your
dolls," said Rock. "Maybe my mother will let me send for it. I will ask
her."

"Oh, that would be lovely," said the girls.

"And I will lend you some of my books to read," said Dimple. "If you
will please hand me that little cane, we will go in and you can choose
them."

"Oh, thank you," said Rock. "I shall like to have them, for I like to
read better than to do anything else."

They all went in and found Rock's mother and Mrs. Dallas in the parlor.

Dimple told her mamma what they had come for, and her mamma suggested
her taking Rock into the library first, as he might find something there
that he liked.

So Rock was taken to the bookcase, and found there a book of travels he
had been wanting to read, so he bade them good-bye, with it under his
arm, promising soon to come again.

Then Dimple and Florence returned to the garden where they had left a
colony of grasshoppers imprisoned in a small house built for them out of
bits of wood and bark.

"Baby Grasshopper has gone," said Florence, in dismay, as she peeped in
to see the prisoners.

"I knew he would get out; he was so little," returned Dimple. "Let's set
them all free, Florence. We'll pretend that they escaped in the night,
or that peace has been declared."

"Or that a tornado blew down their prison."

"Yes, that will be the best. We'll blow real hard, and maybe it will
come down."

So, with cheeks much puffed out they blew and blew, but without avail,
and finally they picked up their hats and fanned the little bark
structure so vigorously that it toppled over, and the grasshoppers
escaped in every direction, the children laughing to see how quickly
they disappeared.

They sat there in the grass wondering what to do next when Dimple
exclaimed, "There comes papa with Mr. Coulter,--he's the carpenter, you
know--I wonder what he is going to do. See, Mr. Coulter is measuring the
ground, and papa is explaining something. I can tell by the way he
keeps doing so, with his hand. He always does that when he is
explaining. Help me up, Florence, and let's go over there and see what's
going on. Papa must mean to hav