d kissed the solitary darling.

'"Good-bye, my trot," I said. I could not say another word.

'"Dood bye, don't ky," said Dot, stroking my cheek. "Doll won't turn
back, but Dot will do to 'Ebben too some day."

'That was quite too much for me. I turned away and hurried back home as
fast as I could.

'"Mamma," I exclaimed, rushing into our sitting-room, and throwing
myself down on the sofa, "It's just what I thought. I wish you would
come away from St. Austin's at once. I shall never, never like it
again."

'"What _is_ the matter, Florence?" said poor mamma, quite startled.

'"It's about the trots," I said, now fairly sobbing, "I have just seen
one--in deep mourning, mamma,--and--and--the other one is _dead_."

'"Poor little angel!" said mamma. And the tears came into her eyes too.

'I did not see Dot again after that day. I fancy that was its last walk
before leaving St. Austin's for its regular home, wherever that was. And
a very short time after we ourselves left too.

* * * * *

'I never forgot the trots. Of course the pleasure of going back to our
own dear home again, and seeing all our old friends, raised my spirits,
and softened the real grief I had felt. But whenever we spoke of St.
Austin's, or people asked me about it, and mentioned the esplanade or
the shore, or any of the places where I had seen the trots, the tears
_would_ come into my eyes, as again I seemed to see before me the two
dear funny little figures. And whenever our plans for the following
winter were alluded to, I always said one thing: "Wherever you go,
mamma, don't go to St. Austin's."

'My mother gave in to me. When did she not? How patient she was with me,
how sympathising, even in my fancies! And how unselfish--it was not till
long after we had left St. Austin's, that she told me what anxiety she
had gone through on hearing of my having kissed little Dot. For how
sadly probable it seemed that Doll had died of some infectious illness,
such as scarlet-fever, for instance, which I had never had!

'"But _Dot_ couldn't have been ill, mamma," I said. "Dot looked
perfectly well."

'"Did he?" said my mother. Sometimes she called the trots "he" and
sometimes "she," in the funniest way! "I wonder what the other little
dear died of?"

'"So do I," I replied. "Still, on the whole, I think I am just as well
pleased not to know."

'Our uncertainty for the next winter ended in what was to me a
delightful deci