Dorothy was a gay, prancy horse and Roy was a coachman armed with a long whip.  They paused for breath beside the roller.  Roy clambered up to the high seat and flourished his whip.  Dorothy drummed on the hollow-sounding sides with her chubby fingers.  Suddenly a loose board rattled to the ground.  Dorothy thrust her curly head inside the roller.

“Oh, what a nice playhouse!” she cried.

Roy got down and peered in.

“So it is,” he cried.  “We can live here when it rains, for there’s a really roof and a truly floor.”

“We’ll call it Clover Cottage,” said Dorothy, “for see how thick the clover is all around it.”

In about an hour “Clover Cottage” was in perfect order.  Pictures and cards were tacked up, and the dolls and the furniture and the dishes all in place.  Snowball was purring on a little bed of pine needles, and Trip lay beside her fast asleep.

Tired of her work, Dorothy cuddled down a minute, too.  Roy put back the loose board to shut out the blazing sun.  Then he cuddled down beside his sister, and it was all dark and quiet.

At twelve o’clock Norah came to the kitchen door and blew the great tin dinner horn.  Hiram promptly unhitched “Old Dolly” from the hay rake and started for the house.  “I may as well haul the roller along and put it under cover,” he said to himself, as he passed the lane.

He backed patient Dolly into the thills and mounted the high seat.  “Clover Cottage” gave a sudden lurch forward.  Dorothy woke with a scream.  Trip was thrown violently into her lap, yelping wildly.  Snowball clawed madly at the slowly-turning roof.  Roy tried to shield his sister with his short arms, as dolls, dishes and themselves rolled together in confusion.  “Old Dolly” pricked up her ears and stopped short.  Hiram sprang down and tried to peer through the cracks of the roller.

Helped by Roy within, the loose board was soon pushed aside and the unhappy little inmates of “Clover Cottage” crawled out, one by one.  Frightened Trip shot down the lane.  Snowball scrambled up the nearest tree trunk.

“Well,” said Hiram, “I call this quite an earthquake!”

—­Child Garden.

HOW REX EARNED HIS KEEP.

By Winthrop day.

When the passenger train stopped at the little station up in the mountains, Carl and Rosalie were helped out of one of the Pullman cars by the porter.  Sam, their Uncle Jack’s big hired man, was there to meet them with the mountain hack and a team of splendid ponies.

“So you’re all here safe, I see,” said Sam in his hearty way.

“I know that we’re here all right,” said Rosalie, “but I’m not so sure about Rex.  I haven’t seen him since we left Kansas City.”

“Who’s Rex?” asked Sam.

“Why didn’t Uncle Jack tell you about Rex?” said Carl.  “Rex is our collie.  He was put into the baggage car.”