“Mr. Jones,” wrote Lena, “please send somebody to the island near our house.  Rob’s boat has floated away and five friends of mine can’t get off the island.  There’s a big storm coming.  Please be quick!”

Waggy took the note in his pail to the butcher thinking of course that he was going to be given some meat to carry home.  But he was surprised to see Mr. Jones hurry away toward the river.

A little later Lena was overjoyed to see five very wet and draggled friends of hers coming into her house to wait until the storm was over.

[Illustration:  Lena was overjoyed to see five wet and draggled friends of hers coming into her house.]

ON ACCOUNT OF THE BUNNIES.

By Emma C. Dowd.

Pauline looked through the picket fence and scowled.

“Oh, those poor little rabbits!” she whispered to herself.  “I don’t believe that boy has fed them this morning.  And now he’s gone off to play ball.  It is a shame!” She glanced under the grape arbor, where some chickweed was growing luxuriantly, and for a minute she hesitated.  The next, she was down among the chickweed, pulling it up by the handful.

She approached the fence again, looked cautiously around, to make sure nobody was in sight, and then thrust the green stuff between the pickets.

That first time of Pauline’s feeding the rabbits was followed by a second and a third, and finally it came to be a common thing for her to peer through the fence to see if they were supplied with food, and if not to carry them a good meal.

One morning Pauline was feeding them with celery tips, and, having become a bit careless, stopped to see them enjoy their feast.  When she looked up she was disconcerted to see their owner watching her—­only a few feet away.

“I beg your pardon,” she began, hesitatingly, “but I just thought I’d bring your rabbits a little celery.”  And she turned to go.

[Illustration:  John discovers Pauline feeding his rabbits.]

“Oh—­I say—­wait a minute!” he returned, as her foot touched the fence.  “So it’s you that’s been feeding them, is it?  The fact is, I—­forgot, you know.”

“I did feel sorry to see them hungry,” confessed Pauline; “and I love pets.”

“Say, you may have a couple of ’em, if you want,” he said generously.

“And I’ll help you fix a pen,” he added.

“Oh, thank you!  I’d like them ever so much!” beamed Pauline.  And there was the beginning of a firm friendship between the small neighbors.

Pauline was to be satisfied with no such little makeshift as John gave his own pets.  Only the biggest sized dry-goods box would do for the house itself, and the yard that he helped to fence off with wire netting made him look disgustedly upon the tiny space allotted to the bunnies on his side of the pickets.

When at last, Pauline’s rabbits were in their new quarters.  John gazed at them thoughtfully.