The road stretched white through the gathering darkness in the direction of the little cottage.
"Oh, I want to go home so bad!" she sobbed.

"I want to see my mothah." She laid her hand irresolutely on the latch, pushed the gate ajar, and then hesitated.
"No, I promised the doctah I'd stay," she thought.

"He said I could help mothah and Papa Jack, both of 'em, by stayin' heah, an' I'll do it." Fritz, who had pushed himself through the partly opened gate to rustle around among the dead leaves outside, came bounding back with something in his mouth.
"Heah, suh!" she called.

"Give it to me!" He dropped a small gray kid glove in her outstretched hand.

"Oh, it's mothah's!" she cried.