It was of no use talking to Dinah; so she began to talk to herself.
"What you matter, Flywer Clifford ?" said she, scowling to keep her courage up.

"What you matter ?" And after she had said that, she cried harder than ever, and crept under the bushes, moaning like a wounded lamb.
"I'm defful wetter, but I'm colder'n I's wetter; makes me shivvle!" After a while the clouds had poured out all the rain there was in them, and left the sky as clear as it was before; but by that time the sun had gone to bed, and the little birds too, sending out their good nights from tree to tree.

Then the new moon came, and peeped over the shoulder of a hill at Flyaway.

She sprang out from the bushes like a rabbit.
"O, my shole!" cried she, clapping her hands, "the sun's camed again! A little bit o' sun.

I sawed it!" [Illustration: LOST IN THE WOODS.] Inspired with new courage, she and Dinah concluded to start for home; that is to say, they turned round three or four times, and then struck off into the woods.
* * * * * Now you may be sure all this could not happen without causing great alarm at grandpa Parlin's.