Dotty crouched behind an apple barrel, and listened.

Grandma Read was talking to Mrs.Parlin, who seemed to be in another room.
"Mary, my glasses _are_ gone this time," said she.

"If little Alice were only here, I should set her to hunting." "She don't know I'm in the house this minute," thought Dotty; "no, _under_ the house.

Dear me!" With that she walked softly up the stairs, and listened at the door-latch; for the sound of her grandmother's voice was encouraging, and Dotty, in her loneliness, longed to be near the dear people of the family, even if she could not see them.
"Edward," said her mother,--what music there was in her voice!--"if you are going after that dear child, you'd better take a shawl to wrap her in, for it is snowing fast.

And be sure to tell her we love her dearly, every one of us, and don't believe she will ever run away again." "O, was her papa going after her?
Did they love her, after all?
Were they willing to keep her in the house ?" Dotty opened the door before she knew it.