Runaway Fritz VIII

ALICE E. ALLEN
Betty's Red Coat

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: Joe runs away from a circus, finds a home with Mr. and Mrs. Davis, meets Betty. Betty's father sends her a dog who turns out to be Fritz, the trick-dog Joe had left behind in the circus. Betty gives Fritz to Joe. Joe gives Betty a locket marked M. E. B.- her own initials. He keeps the lady's picture which has always been in the locket. Joe's teacher loses her purse. Nearly everyone thinks Joe has taken it. Joe runs away, but is sent back by Jane Wren. Betty's father makes her a visit. He borrows the locket lady's picture.

Betty's father stayed over Sunday. On Monday morning, he visited school and had a long talk with Miss Raye. Monday night, he went back to the city.

That same Monday night, when Joe milked Cowslip, he noticed that Fritz was gone. Joe wasn't troubled. Probably he had gone on one of his visits to Betty. But when Betty came to school the next morning, Fritz wasn't with her. And she hadn't seen him since Saturday.

Whether or not they liked Joe, all the little Locusts loved Fritz. And as the days went by, and he didn't come home, they all helped in the search for him. Many people thought they had seen a bull-terrier with a face half brown and half white. But no matter how hopefully Betty and Joe followed up the clew there was no Fritz at the end of it.

Early Saturday morning, Joe, mounted on old Daisy, rode up to the Blake porch.

"I've got to go to Miss Wren's with this quarter of a dollar," he told Betty who came running to meet him. "And I've got to ride 'way 'round by the bridge 'cause the river is so high. It's 'way up over the flats. I'm so sorry, 'cause I wanted all day to look for Fritzie in. But perhaps I'll

find him at Miss Wren's."

"Oh dear," sighed Betty, "I'm so discouraged perhapsing. And it's such a lovely April-y morning-or 'twould be, if only Fritz was here. You don't suppose he's run back to the circus, do you, Joey?"

"No," said Joe stoutly. "I'll bring him back with me I'm just about sure, Betty."

Joe rode away down the hills. Louder and louder came the rush and roar of the river. He rounded the corner. There, spreading far out over the flat lands, was a broad angry flood. Could it be the still blue river which he and Richard had followed home that September day?

There was no safe crossing anywhere save at the bridge. Even that wasn't far above the foaming torrent.

Joe crossed the bridge. He urged old Daisy up the hill. It wasn't long before he came in sight of the little brown house stuck like a bird's nest on the side of the hill. Even at this distance the boom of the river filled the air. The snow-banks were almost gone. In sunny places and along the brook's course, tufts of green grass showed. Buds were swelling. Pussy willows were out.

Joe tied old Daisy to one of the poplar trees. Then he went up on the porch. As he knocked, he half expected to hear Fritz's joyous bark. But instead Jane Wren's voice called blithely:

"Come in, Joey."

"I knew you'd be coming to-day," she cried as Joe went into the tiny room. "I've baked a saucer pie for your dinner. Sit right down."

But Joe took something out of his pocket. It was a silver quarter of a dollar done up in brown paper.

"Here it is," he said. "I earned it myself, sugaring. I brought it just as soon as I could."

"To be sure," cried Jane Wren. "I knew the look in your eyes was honest, Joey. And all the week I've been saying to myself, 'Jane Wren,' says I, 'Joey'll be here on Saturday- you'll see!' What about the purse?"

"It's lost yet, Miss Wren. But Betty's father was here last week and he's a lawyer and he says it will turn up somewhere."

"So 'twill, Joey, I'm not a lawyer, but I've thought and thought and I've said to myself, Jane Wren,' says I, 'you ought to be able to think that out yourself with just thoughts and a spy-glass for company.' And maybe I shall yet-who knows?"

"It's Fritz that's lost now," said Joe. "I thought maybe he was here."

"Bless me," cried Jane Wren starting up. "Fritz? He's been here for four days as much at home as if he'd al ways lived here. But last night, off he went. I thought he followed the stage. Didn't he get home?"

"Oh, dear," said Joe. "I am so sorryyou see Betty feels so worried. I did want to take him home." "Now see here, Joey," said Jane Wren, "you eat your dinner and don't worry about that dog. He's big enough and smart enough to look after himself."

But all the time Joe ate delicious warm biscuits and new maple syrup and canned cherry pie, he wasn't quite happy. Betty's big sorry eyes kept looking at him. And not long after dinner, he said, "I'd like to stay, Miss Wren, but I can't. Betty will be looking for me. And it takes so long to go 'way 'round by the bridge."

"The stage forded the river," said Jane Wren. "But don't you try it, Joey. Go 'round by the bridge, even if it is further. And come again, just as quick as you can. And next time, bring Betty."

Joe rode quickly down the hill. He saw the place where the road went down into the water. But the current was deep and swift and full of floating tree-trunks and branches. So Joe went the long way round to the bridge. Once safely across, he sent old Daisy flying at her best canter along the home road. Before he had reached the corner, coming down the long hill toward him, he saw a flying black horse. On the horse was a little girl in a red coat and a red cap. A mass of yellow curls billowed out behind. It was Betty.

Joe urged old Daisy till her gait was something like that of a big awkward hobby-horse.

"Oh, Joey, Joey, Joey!" cried Betty. She talked for some time before Joe could make out any other word.

"The stage driver says Fritz followed him last night," she gasped when they met at the foot of the hill. "He knows it was Fritz. He came down the hill with him on the other he thinks as far as the river. But he didn't show up on this side. The driver said it was about all he could do to get through himself. He stopped on this side and whis

side

tled and called. Once or twice, he thought Fritz barked. But he couldn't see anything it was so dark. And this morning, he couldn't see anything of him either. I just know he's drowned." Betty sobbed.

"Oh I say, Betty," cried Joe, "Fritz isn't drowned. He's a splendid swimmer."

"He couldn't swim in that, I guess," cried Betty. She waved one hand toward the swollen river.

Joe gazed across the water. Suddenly his face grew white. Out in the middle of the flood, just above where they stood, an old tree-trunk had tangled its roots around a rock so it couldn't quite get loose. And clinging with both paws to this unsteady trunk, was a small wretched brown and white object. At the very minute, Joe spied it, a voice, shrill and sharp, screamed something from the opposite bank.

There, across the flood, waving her spy glass was Jane Wren. Betty and Joe couldn't hear a word she said. But she screamed on and waved her spy-glass at the log. Joe's eyes went back back to it and the slipping struggling object half in, half out of the water. Betty's eyes, big and bewildered, looked too.

"Why," she screamed, "it's Fritz!"

"There's a boat," cried Joe. "I saw it as I came along." He put Daisy's halter into Betty's hand. "Watch the horses, Betty."

Joe was off like a flash. Betty sobbed and clung to the horses. Joe found the boat, climbed in, and pushed it off. Betty dashed away her tears to watch. He made his way slowly across the brown angry flood, between floating branches, stumps, loose pieces of sod, and chunks of ice. Jane Wren watched, too, holding her breath. And Fritz, clinging to his log, watched. Once he barked feebly.

How Joe did it, he never knew. But somehow he reached the dog. Somehow he dragged him into the boat. Somehow he pushed the boat safely back to shore. When he landed, Jane Wren dropped her spy glass and clapped her hands. Betty forgot the horses. She knelt down in the muddy road. She put both arms around Fritz. "Oh Fritzie, Fritzie," she sobbed.

Frightened, wet, and wretched, Fritz put his head down into Betty's lap and snuggled against her. Feebly he kissed Joe's hand. Then he nosed at the pocket of Betty's red coat.

"I haven't a thing to feed you, Fritzie," said Betty, "but just wait till you get home -"

Betty never finished her sentence, for Fritz stuck his hungry nose into the pocket of her red coat. And when he slowly brought it out, in his mouth was a small green purse with shiny corners.

(To be continued)

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you will be at the mercy of any creature who wishes to eat you." But Erica refused to listen.

"Mother is trying to frighten me," she said, looking at the bright sunshine, "and it won't rain. I must visit those lovely fields beyond the moor."

Away she flew over thousands and thousands of heather bells and dewberry bushes, until she came to a smooth green meadow, curiously studded with white objects. Some were as large as a plate, others as small as a button, but all were exactly the shape of an open umbrella. Erica clapped her tiny hands.

"I need not fear the rain - here are hundreds of delightful umbrellas. She alighted on a big one, which was smooth as velvet; she crept under and, lo! it was brown. Then she ran to a pink one; it was cream underneath and wonderfully cosy a pink umbrella, lined with cream satin.

"Now, this is charming. I shall certainly stay here," declared Erica, quite forgetting the dewberries and honey. "What a splendid world. I-don't-think-I'll-evergo-back-to-the-moor." And, having made this decision, she fell fast asleep.

When she awoke, the weather had completely changed. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, and a deluge drenched the short grass. And her pink umbrella began to grow! At first she could not believe it, but it was true: it grew visibly. "I don't mind," she said aloud, to encourage herself; "I shan't get wet."

But still the umbrella grew, and, as the cover rose higher and higher, the rain beat in under it. Sad indeed was Erica's plight. Her shoes were wet, her purple gown fell apart like wet blotting paper, and her wings glued themselves to the fragments. She could not fly; she had no food, and the drenching rain still continued. Cold and miserable, she remembered her mother's advice, and, too late, wished she had taken it.

Then she screamed in terror. Through the pelting storm loomed a great black creature, who carried a house on his

back. He stared at her with his curious eyes, which were swinging about at the end of two long horns, and, with the exception of two short horns, he had no other limbs at all. "Do not be afraid, little lady," he said. "I am only Mr. Snail."

"You - you will not eat me?" sobbed Erica, thinking of her mother's warning.

"Of course not; I eat mushrooms. I was just about to dine off that one you are under, but I won't disturb you, I'll go to the next," he replied, good-naturedly.

"It does not signify; I'm quite wet and shall soon be drowned," said Erica, mournfully.

Mr. Snail opened his stalked eyes wider than ever. "You don't mean to say that you can't stand this splendid rain; I simply love it."

"I'm a fairy, not a snail," replied Erica, with dignity. "True, but I'm sorry for you. Suppose you creep inside my house until the storm is over, and I'll eat your mushroom; exchange is no robbery, you know."

He slipped his house to the ground, and, thankfully, Erica crept into it. She was dry, but oh! so hungry, and it did not improve matters to see Mr. Snail enjoying huge bites of mushroom. How she longed for a drop of honey! At last she could bear it no longer.

"Have you a little food for me?" she asked in a faint voice. "I live on dewberries and honey," she added. "Dear me, no. If you eat that kind of food you must go to the moor."

"That is where I live with my mother," explained Erica. "Then you were very silly to leave her."

"I know that now," wept Erica; "and if I could only return I would never, never leave her again."

"Well, well," replied Mr. Snail, who was certainly tenderhearted; "since you can't fly through the rain, I'll take you back myself."

"Will you, really, Mr. Snail? How good of you."

"Not at all; but you must promise to be content with your surroundings, in future."

"I will, I will," she answered eagerly. "Then we will start at once," replied Mr. Snail, slowly, hoisting his house, with Erica inside, upon his broad back.

But it was a slow journey, and Erica wondered if she would ever reach the end of it alive. Creep, creep, all through the stormy night and through the equally Mr. Snail stormy next day until Mr. stopped with a jerk in front of Erica's house.

Great was the joy of Heather Bell when she beheld her fairy child.

"I thought she was lost forever," she explained to Mr. Snail.

Then Erica told the story of Mr. Snail's

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kindness-how he had sheltered her in his house, and finally brought her home.

"I am very grateful to you, Mr. Snail; you must certainly stay here as our guest," remarked Heather Bell, prettily. Mr. Snail, however, had already turned his horns towards home.

"Everybody in their proper places," he answered; "you in heatherland, me in my mushroom meadow. If your daughter cares to return on a fine day, I can always place a mushroom at her disposal;" and, politely waving his horns, he crept away.

But Erica had learned the lesson of contentment; she never wished to see a "Fairy's Umbrella" again.`

- From "In Nature's Storyland," by Edith Hirons

Paper Cutting for Beginners

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VIII

J. L.

HIS month the spring work is composed of three groups of charts. Group A consists of three charts. The first is made up of eggs of different sizes. These are made from light paper or they may be colored light with the crayons. (See illustration 1.) The second chart consists of baskets for holding the eggs. These are made from woven strips of paper of two colors with a handle added. The finished chart of this group consists of a green background with a light basket filled with eggs. (See illustration 3.)

The construction work consists of a green foundation on which is placed a woven basket filled with eggs. To make the basket weave the mat from two colors of paper. Cut the