The rustic bridge upon which Polly and Lena had stood spanned the brook that ran through the grove.

The grove was a wee bit of woodland so near to dwellings that it was quite safe for children to play there.

Dollie Burton was so very small, however, that she had always played in the lovely grounds that surrounded her home.

Whenever she had ventured farther, she had been with Blanche, but to-day she had left the garden, and for the first time in her little life she had run away!

It was something that Harry Grafton had said that had caused her to do it.

“Why, Dollie, you’d feel lost if you went to school,” he had said, “’cause you’ve always played in your yard.”

He had not meant it unkindly, but he had offended little Dollie.

“I wouldn’t feel lost outside of our garden any more than you would, Harry Grafton, so now!” she had cried.

“Don’t you mind, Dollie,” the boy had answered, but Dollie did mind very much.

She had no thought as to where she was going when she ran from the garden, and it was only chance that led her to the grove.

She ran to the bridge and stood watching the rippling brook, as it rushed beneath it.

Softly she crooned a little tune, for wee Dollie was never long unhappy.  She had almost forgotten how vexed she had been, and she laughed as she saw small bubbles sailing, sailing away to the meadow.  Softly she hummed, and then little words, describing what she saw, fitted quaintly into the droll melody—­

    “See the pretty bubbles, bubbles,
     Riding on the little brook;
     See the spiders try to catch them,
     And old Mr. Toady Frog sings
     ‘Po-dunk!’ and jumps down deep. 
     Oh, green old Mr. Toady Frog—­

There’s Blanche’s teacher!  I’ll ask her, and p’raps she’ll say ‘yes.’”

A slender young woman with a gentle, smiling face, came along the path, and stepped upon the bridge.

She wondered who the tiny girl might be, until Dollie turned, and gave her a sunny smile.

“Oh, I wanted to see you this very minute!” cried Dollie; “I want you to tell mama I’m big ’nough to go to school.  Will you, please, Miss Sterling.  I’ll love you, if you will!”

The young girl was tempted to laugh, until she saw the red lips quiver.  Then she knew how much her answer meant to the little girl, and kneeling beside Dollie, she put her arm around her, drawing her close.

“Dear, can’t you love me, whatever I say?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Dollie, “because you’re so handsome.”

“Oh, you are truly an artful baby,” the young teacher said, with a laugh.

“But will you?” urged Dollie, “I do know something.  I can spell ’c-a-t, cat,’ and I know that isn’t kitten, and I can spell ‘b-e, be,’ and that isn’t the bumble kind, so can I come to school?”