As they entered the yard they met Horace.
"O, dear," said Dotty, trying to look as sorry as she knew she ought to feel, "that wheel--" "What!" exclaimed Prudy.
There, under a syringa tree in the garden, stood the wheelbarrow.

The girls rubbed their eyes, and wondered if they were walking in their sleep.
"That thing trundled itself in here about half an hour ago," said Horace, gravely.

"You may know I was surprised to look up, and see it coming without hands, just rolling along like a velocipede." Dotty eyed the runaway wheelbarrow stupidly.

"I don't believe it," said she, flatly.
Horace laughed; and then the fog cleared away from Dotty's mind in a minute.
"Why, girls," said he, "how long did you think I could wait to haul off my weeds?
You were gone two hours.

I watched you on your parade, and followed at a respectful distance." "There, Horace Clifford!" "In order not to disturb the procession.