“I’m going to help,” added Mab.

“An’ me, too!” called Sammie.

“They’ll drown the poor dog,” spoke Mr. Blake, laughing.  “I guess I’d better take a hand in this myself.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Aunt Lolly from the back steps.  “Is the house on fire?” She was always afraid that would happen.

“No, it’s just Roly-Poly and some sticky fly paper,” answered Mr. Blake.  “He must have run home to get a bath after he got all tangled up in the sticky stuff at the Thompson house.”

By using the hose, and by greasing the fly paper, which really loosened it more than water did, and then by using soap suds and a brush, Roly-Poly was finally cleaned.  Then on their way to school Hal and Mab stopped at the Thompson home to find out what had happened.

“Roly-Poly was very good, all the while he was here,” said Mrs. Thompson, “though at first he was lonesome for you.  He would have run back to your house if I had let him out, but I knew he might make trouble in your garden so I kept him here.

“This morning I put some of the sticky fly paper around the house and left a window open in the room where Roly was sleeping.  The wind must have blown the sticky paper on his curly coat of hair and this so frightened him that he jumped out of the window and ran back home to you.”

“Only he went in the yard next door, instead of in ours,” said Mab, “and he hid under the morning glory vines.”

“And on his way,” added Hal, “he rolled in dried leaves and grass until he was all covered, and he looked twice as big as he is now.”

“And Sammie thought he was a lion,” went on Mab.

“Are you going to bring Roly-Poly back to me to keep?” asked Mrs. Thompson.

“Thank you, no,” answered Hal.  “Daddy says our garden is growing so well now that Roly can’t do much harm.  Besides we’re going to teach him he mustn’t dig holes, to hide his bones, in places where we have things planted.  So we’ll keep Roly now.”

“And we’re much obliged to you for being so nice to him,” added Mab, “and we’re sorry he spoiled your fly paper.”

“Oh, I have plenty more fly paper,” laughed Mrs. Thompson.  “I’m only sorry poor Roly was so stuck up.  Good-bye!”

Hal and Mab hurried on to school, laughing over what had happened to their pet poodle.  When their lessons were done they went back to their garden, anxious to see if Roly had been good, and had not dug up any corn or beans.

“Everything is all right,” said Mab, as she looked at her bush beans, which were now in blossom.  Soon the blossoms would drop off and in their places would come tiny bean pods.

“Oh, see Uncle Pennyweight!” cried Mab, when she had found that Roly was peacefully sleeping on the shady porch.  “What’s he doing?”

“Planting something, I guess,” replied Hal after he had looked at his growing corn, and hoed around a few hills.

“And Aunt Lolly is working in her part of the garden,” went on Mab.  “I wonder if they’ll win that ten dollar gold piece prize, Hal?”