ought, looking back once more
before she turned the corner.

"How nice it must be to live in a house like that. _Bess_ and
_Louise_; I wonder what their last name is."

Louise was busy with her drawing one morning, comfortably established
in a shady corner of the porch, when her aunt called to her:

"I wish you would keep an eye on Carie while Joanna goes on an errand
for me."

"I will, Aunt Zelie," she responded promptly.

It was not likely her charge would give her much trouble, for Carie
was quite capable of entertaining herself, and was at that moment
promenading back and forth with an old parasol over her head,
pretending she was going to market.

"Don't go on the grass, baby; it is wet," cautioned Louise, by way of
showing her authority, and then returned to the new mansion for the
Carletons upon which she was working. She soon became so absorbed in
this that she forget to look up now and then.

Meanwhile Carie talked busily to herself, gesticulating with one small
forefinger. But after a little she grew tired of filling her basket
with grass and leaves, and stood peeping out through the bars of the
gate. How much more fun it would be to go to the real market where she
had often been with Joanna! She knew perfectly well that she was not
allowed outside by herself, but that did not make it seem any less
attractive. With a cautious glance over her shoulder she softly
pulled the gate open, and in a moment more was flying up the street.
When she reached the corner she turned to the right and slackened her
pace, feeling very important and grown up as she bobbed merrily along
under her parasol.

"Where are you going, little one?" asked a man who passed her.

She gave him a roguish glance as she answered, "To martet."

At the next corner she turned again to the right, safely crossing the
street, but here everything was unfamiliar and she began to feel
timid. Then she suddenly saw a very large dog coming toward her. He
was so large she thought he must be a bear, and, with a frightened
scream, she turned to run, but tripped over her parasol, and fell, a
forlorn little heap, on the sidewalk.

"What is the matter? Are you hurt? You mustn't be afraid of the dog;
he is good, and doesn't bite."

These reassuring words were spoken by a girl of eleven or twelve, who
helped her up and brushed off her dress.

"What a darling you are!" she added, as Carie lifted her big blue
eyes, all swimming in tears, saying, "I f