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In the Garden

They were a battered quartette, with but half a dozen legs, and not so many arms among them

them in turn, as if she had been gone a long, long time, instead of just two hours by the old sun-dial, who never told lies as some clocks do. Nichette was much excited.

“See what I have found, children!” she cried, pulling the bunch of keys from her apron pocket and holding them up before the dolls’ staring eyes. The dolls did not seem much impressed, but Nichette did not wait for them to exclaim.

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