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All indoors, with unknownness! "Come, Beautiful-Lovely!" she implored. "Come, Lopsy! Miss Flora! Come, Blunder-Blot!" But there was really no need of entreaty. A turn of the door-knob would have brought them! Leaping, loping, four abreast, they came plunging like so many North Winds to their party! Streak of Snow, Glow of Fire, Frozen Mud Sun-Spot! Yelping-mouthed slapping-tailed!

Very definitely then, with quick deeds, incisive words, he separated the immediate combatants, and ordered the other dogs into submission. "Here you, Demon Direful!" he addressed the white Wolf Hound. "Drop that, Orion!" he shouted to the Irish Setter. "Cut it out, John!" he thundered at the Coach Dog. "Their names are 'Beautiful-Lovely'!" cried Flame. "And 'Lopsy! and 'Blunder-Blot!"

And he's sitting at the front gate this moment! Superintending the unpacking of the furniture van! And I've named him Lopsy!" "Why, Flame; how absurd!" gasped her mother. In consideration of the fact that Flame's mother had run all the way from the icy-footed chicken yard to answer the telephone it shows distinctly what stuff she was made of that she gasped nothing else.

For Lopsy, the crafty Setter, she selected a White Rabbit's artless, pink-eared visage. Yet out of the whole box of masks it had been the Bengal Tiger's fiercely bewhiskered visage that had fascinated Flame the most. Regretfully from its more or less nondescript companions, she picked up the Bengal Tiger now and pulled at its real, bristle-whiskers.

"You are always so horridly right! Lopsy and Beautiful-Lovely and Blunder-Blot are not Christmasing all alone in the Rattle-Pane House! There is a man with them! Don't tell Father, he's so nervous about men!" "A man?" stammered her Mother. "Oh I hope not a young man! Where did he come from?" "Oh I don't think he came at all," confided Flame. It was Flame who was perplexed this time.

With a little chuckle of joy she crawled through the Barberry hedge and emerged for a single instant only at her full height before three furry shapes came hurtling out of the darkness and toppled her over backwards. "Stop, Beautiful-Lovely!" she gasped. "Stop, Lopsy! Behave yourself, Blunder-Blot! Sillies! Don't you know I'm the lady that was talking to you this morning through the picket fence?

"The truth of the matter," went on the Clown, "is that my leg was broken a while ago, and the boy just glued it together." "Oh, I'm so sorry!" mewed the Match-Safe Cat. "I'm not I'm glad," said the Clown. "If it wasn't glued I'd be a slimpsy lopsy sort of chap." "Oh, I didn't mean I was sorry your leg was GLUED, I meant that I was sorry it was BROKEN," went on the Cat.