She thought of the cheerful, orderly tea-table at home; she recalled her mother's gentle ways, her lovely face, and longed to kiss her cheek, and whisper, "Forgive me." "Mamma'll be just as patient with me," thought Dotty; "she always is! But if I once get home, I'll never make her patient any more.

I'll never run away again; not unless she _asks_ me to--I won't." The children, as fast as they finished their suppers, jumped up and ran away from the table--all but Solly, who had some faint idea that it was not polite to do so before company.

He was a natural gentleman; and it was unfortunate that just at this time his mother was obliged to send him to Munjoy of an errand.

Otherwise he would have made his sister give up Dotty's hat, and perhaps would have walked home with the unhappy child himself.
As it was, Dotty did not seem to have a friend in the world.

It was now so dark that she hardly dared look out of doors; but even in the brightest daylight she could not have found her way home.
"You've got to stay all night," said Mandoline.