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And when the little dog thought how, on the morrow, all the gay cousins would come for Floribel, and would find only a brown dog, it laid its head on the grandmother's feet, and whined so piteously that she began to weep, and said, "We are having hard times, Floribel! yes, very hard times!" and then the baby began to cry too, as if it understood all about it.
"Pray, be still," cried her grandmother, "and let me see you. Are you really my own little Floribel, come back?" "Yes, grandmother, yes, Zach. Frolic has gone, and Floribel has come." "'Ittle dog done, 'ittle dirl tome; me 'ove 'ittle dog, me 'ove 'ittle dirl," was Zach's grave remark. The old lady said, "Yes, my child, it is you; what would your grandfather say?"
Old Zachary took the president's message, a pair of spectacles, and a pipe full of tobacco, which he smoked by the way. The old woman carried a bowl of hot tea, a looking glass, and her very best plaited cap. As they went out of the door, they found their little grandchild, Floribel, reading on the step, and called to her to follow them.
It went frisking home, and the grandmother called out, "Why, Frolic!" thinking, for a moment, it was the dog they had before, and that Floribel would come bounding in after it. From that time she always called it Frolic. The next day the cousins arrived in their wagon, and stopping at the gate, they saw a little dog in the yard, and called out, "There is Frolic, returned.
"The poor little things! How they do cry! What shall I do with them? I do wish grandmother were here, to help me take care of them!" and one little baby was immediately changed back into her grandmother. "How could you wish me to be old again, Floribel?" she exclaimed. "Pray wish me to be just seventeen."
I am sure it would rather be Floribel, and have the hardest arithmetic lesson to learn, than be only a little scampering dog. Would it not, doggy?" and the dog bobbed its head up and down, as much as to say, "Yes, I am sure I should." After school the dog and children ran races together; but no child could run so fast as the dog, with its four legs.
Then, turning to Floribel, he said, "Well, my little girl, what pretty book is that you have in your hand? Ah, the History of Jack the Giant-killer. A splendid fellow was Jack! my great-grandfather. Just the book I have always wished to read. Family archives, you know. And what is this I behold? What, a splendid red chariot! and what a sweet little doll within! How dumb and amiable she appears!
"Am I not Floribel?" thought the dog, and barked as much as to say so, and looked up so dolefully in the grandmother's face, that she said, "Poor little creature; you had better go out and have a run," and opened the door. The dog could not resist its active little legs, and off it sped, until it came to the school house.
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