ing!" shouted Tom, as he came rattling down
the long, steep street outside the park.

They stepped aside, and he whizzed by, arms and legs going like mad,
and the general appearance of a runaway engine. It would have been a
triumphant descent, if a big dog had not bounced suddenly through one
of the openings, and sent the whole concern helter-skelter into the
gutter. Polly laughed as she ran to view the ruin, for Tom lay flat on
his back with the velocipede atop of him, while the big dog barked
wildly, and his master scolded him for his awkwardness. But when she
saw Tom's face, Polly was frightened, for the color had all gone out
of it, his eyes looked strange and dizzy, and drops of blood began to
trickle from a great cut on his forehead. The man saw it, too, and had
him up in a minute; but Tom couldn't stand, and stared about him in a
dazed sort of way, as he sat on the curbstone, while Polly held her
handkerchief to his forehead, and pathetically begged to know if he
was killed.

"Don't scare mother--I'm all right. Got upset, didn't I?" he asked,
presently, eying the prostrate velocipede with more anxiety about its
damages than his own.

"I knew you'd hurt yourself with that horrid thing. Just let it be,
and come home, for your head bleeds dreadfully, and everybody is
looking at us," whispered Polly, trying to tie the little handkerchief
over the ugly cut.

"Come on, then Jove! how queer my head feels! Give us a boost, please.
Stop howling, Maud, and come home. You bring the machine, and I'll pay
you, Pat." As he spoke, Tom slowly picked himself up, and steadying
himself by Polly's shoulder, issued his commands, and the procession
fell into line. First, the big dog, barking at intervals; then the
good-natured Irishman, trundling "that divil of a whirligig," as he
disrespectfully called the idolized velocipede; then the wounded hero,
supported by the faithful Polly; and Maud brought up the rear in
tears, bearing Tom's cap.

LOUISA M. ALCOTT.

[Decoration]

[Illustration: "It would have been a triumphant descent, if a big dog
had not bounced suddenly through one of the openings."]

[Decoration]

POLLY ARRIVES.

The train was just in when Tom reached the station, panting like a
race-horse and as red as a lobster with the wind and the run.

"Suppose she'll wear a top-knot and a thingumbob, like every one else;
and how ever shall I know her? Too bad of