hat will the
folks say!"

They hurried along the path, till, suddenly, David halted.

"Did we pass this big fountain?" he questioned abruptly.

"I--don't remember it," Polly faltered.

"We're on the wrong path," he hastily concluded. "Let's go back!"

They wheeled about, and were soon following a driveway that they were
sure led to the park entrance. Yet they trudged on and on, and still
the green expanse, dotted with trees, flower-beds, and shrubbery
seemed to stretch endlessly before them.

"Seems 's if we ought to get somewhere pretty soon," observed Polly, a
plaintive note in her voice.

David replied absently. He was thinking hard. Where was that big stone
gateway? He strained his eyes in a vain endeavor to discern it in the
distance.

"What if we couldn't find our way out, and they had to come and look
for us!" pondered Polly. "Only they wouldn't know where to look!"

"Oh, we're not lost!" exclaimed David, in what he tried to make a
fearless tone; but Polly, as well as he himself, knew it to be a fib,
spoken only to hold their fast-going courage.

"Let's stop a minute, and see if we can't tell where we are," proposed
Polly, just as if that were not what they had been doing, at brief
intervals, ever since they had passed the unfamiliar fountain.

They had come to no satisfactory conclusion, and were still peering
sharply into their surroundings, when Polly spied a figure in the path
ahead.

"There's a boy!" she whispered. "We can ask him."

As the lad approached, something in his easy swing seemed familiar.

"It looks like--" began Polly--"why, it is! Oh, Cornelius!" she cried
excitedly, as the light showed the unmistakable features of her friend
of the convalescent ward. She sprang forward to greet him.

"Holy saints!" ejaculated Cornelius O'Shaughnessy. "However come you
kids out here, this time o' night?"

They told their story in breathless snatches, omitting only what had
brought them hither.

"Come f'r a walk, did ye!" sniffed Cornelius. "Wal, ye've had it sure!
Now, see here! I've got to go over on North Second Street to git a
receipt f'r some cake Cousin Ellen give my mother, or I'll ketch it
when the show's out--that's where my mother is now! She says, the last
thing, 'Cornelius, mind yer don't forgit to go up after that receipt,
f'r I want to make th' cake in th' mornin'!' I says, 'Sure I
won't!'--and I never thought of it again till just as I was goin' up
to bed! It happened to pop