the lawn mower was searched for, and discovered in the brook.

Old Martin dragged it forth, remarking as he did so:

"It looks like the work of old Nick, or that wild lad, Gyp."

No one had seen Gyp around the place, but, for the matter of that, no one had seen him flying a kite, or playing with a ball.

The articles had disappeared, however, and, as usual, everyone thought Gyp the culprit.

"It took work, and time to make that kite," said Harry, "I wouldn't think any one would be mean enough to take it."

"Unless it was Gyp," said Rob, "he's mean enough for anything, and I wouldn't wonder if the same chap that went off with your kite, took my ball along at the same time."

Both boys were urged to hunt carefully before accusing any one, but thorough search failed to bring forth either kite or ball.

Then Leslie missed a book that she had left on the piazza, and Dollie Burton lost her loviest doll.

Poor little Dollie! She could not be comforted, and promises of a new doll caused a fresh outburst of tears. It wouldn't be the same one that she had loved so, and she refused to have a new one until later, when her grief would be less fresh.

It was in vain that Blanche told her that a new doll would be as dear as the old one, the little girl refused to play, and her cherub face looked very sad, the dimples failing to show, because the smiles would not appear.

"That bad boy, Gyp, has took it," she wailed.

"Oh, Dollie, he might take a kite, or a ball from Harry, and Rob, but he wouldn't want a doll! Just think! What would HE do with a doll?"

"He's got little sisters, you said he had," Dollie replied, "p'raps he stole it for them. I wouldn't care if he'd just took my old one, but he was a bad boy to take my best one. I'll tell him so! You'll see!"

It was a baby's threat, and Blanche did not dream that her wee sister would do anything of the sort.

Dollie had a good memory, however, and Gyp sometimes passed the house.

She was as determined as any older child might have been, to give Gyp the scolding that she thought he deserved.

Oddly enough, he passed the house the next morning.

His restless black eyes were looking furtively about as if in search of something that he might snatch. Little Dollie, for the moment, had forgotten the lost doll.

With a long, flowering branch in her hand, she was walking up and down the driveway, looking more like a doll than anything else, in her dainty frock, her white socks, and bronze slippers.

"Sing a song o' sixpence, A pocket full of rye,--"

"Oh, YOU, YOU--wait for me!" In her wrath, the wee girl had forgotten his name.

Gyp stood still, and waited, open mouthed, while Dollie ran toward him.

He thought her the loveliest thing he had ever seen, and wondered that she wished to speak to him.

"You naughty, BAD boy!" she cried, striking at him with the flowering branch. "Naughty, BAD boy! You bring it back to me!"

Again the flowers hit him, but they gave nothing worse than a love pat.

"What'll I bring ye?" he asked awkwardly, "I ain't got anything you'd want. Ye look like them fairies I've read 'bout."

[Illustration with caption: "Ye've lost yer dolly, hev ye?"]

"DIDN'T you take my best doll?" she asked, her anger gone, and her red lips trembling.

Two big tears ran down the pink cheeks.

Then the strangest thing happened. Gyp, the imp, the one who apparently had no feeling, stooped, and peeping into the lovely little face, spoke very gently:

"Ye've lost yer dolly, hev ye? I ain't seen it, but I'll try ter find it for yer."

"Oh, WILL you?" she cried, smiling through her tears, "then I'm sorry I whipped you with this branch, and come! Let's bofe of us hunt together."

She offered him her little hand, and very carefully he took it.

He walked as if on air. Who else had ever offered him a hand? Who had ever spoken kindly? This lovely little girl had smiled at him, and had wished to be with him while he searched.

How he worked!

Like a little wild creature he crawled under shrubs, and, using his fingers like claws, tugged at grass, and twigs, as if his only interest were to find the doll.

"Was yer near the brook when ye was playin' with it?" asked Gyp.

"Oh, oh, I WAS, but I'd forgotten it. Didn't anyone hunt there! Let's go, quick, maybe we'll find her!"

She gave him a sunny smile, and in delight, he again took the wee hand she offered him, and together the ragged boy, and the wee, dainty girl hurried away to the brook.

It was a bit of the same brook that ran through the garden at Sherwood Hall.

Just as they reached the brook something backed up from the water's edge.

"Oh, Beauty! Beauty! What ARE you doing?" cried Dollie.

The puppy growled, and continued dragging something up the little bank.

"Here Mr. Puppy! Gim me that!" cried Gyp.

"Why, it's my lovely Aurora!" cried Dollie, dancing wildly about.

Gyp, fearless because the little dog was only a pup, tugged at the body of the doll, while Beauty held firmly to its pink skirt.

The muslin frock gave way under the strain, and the puppy, with a bit of the muslin in his mouth, rolled over on the grass, while Gyp, doubting if the bedraggled doll would be accepted, held it out, dripping, for Dollie to look at.

"IS it the doll what ye lost?" he asked.

"Oh, yes; yes it is," cried Dollie, "and I love her just as much as I did before she was drownded!"

Regardless of her own dainty frock, she hugged the dripping doll to her breast.

"You're a GOOD boy to help me," she said, "I said I was sorry I hit you, and I am. I just WISH I hadn't."

"I'd rather ye'd hit me, than any other person touch me," Gyp muttered, and then, for fear that someone at the house might SEND him off, he turned, and ran away. Little Dollie looked after him.

"I wonder if he heard me SAY he was good," she whispered.

Then with soft eyes she looked at the vanishing figure.

"He 'most always ISN'T good, but this time he was," she said.

Beauty, like most little dogs, had a habit of running off with any article that he could snatch, and hiding it.

Tiring of the doll he had dropped it in the brook, and then, when he happened to remember it, had dragged it forth, intending, doubtless, to give it another good shaking.

CHAPTER V

THE LITTLE GREEN DOOR

Dear little Dollie Burton's warm, loving heart had been touched, and she eagerly told everyone how Gyp had helped to find her dear Aurora.

"You see, Rob," she said, one day, "he's SOME naughty, but he ISN'T all naughty. Mama always says: 'Wait 'fore you 'cuse anyone,' but I didn't wait. I just 'cused him as hard as I could, and NOW I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're a trump, Dollie," said Rob.

"Is a 'trump' a nice thing to be?" questioned the wee girl.

"The best thing in the world," Rob declared laughing.

"Well, I didn't know," the little girl replied, "'cause when Nora's cleaning closets, and finds old things, mama says: 'Take that trumpery out to the waste barrel,' and you say trump isn't same as trumpery."

"Guess not! Dollie, you're the best little girl I know," said Rob, to which Dollie replied: "And you're the bestest boy _I_ know."

The news flew through the neighborhood that Gyp had found the doll.

"Well, that's one decent thing he did," said Rob Lindsey, "and I s'pose there's just a chance that he didn't take my ball, or your kite, but who