‘I went to my play-tent,’ he sobbed, ‘and putted my hand underneath the curtain and gave Polly a piece of my supper cake I saved for her—not the frosted part, but the burnt part I couldn’t eat—and she liked it and kissed my hand—and then I fought she was lonesome, and would like to see my littlest frog, and I told her to put out her hand again for a s’prise, and I squeezed him into it tight, so ’t he wouldn’t jump—and she fought it was more cake, and when she found it wasn’t she frew my littlest frog clear away, and it got losted!’ This brought a howl of mirth from everybody, and Dicky was instructed, while being put to bed, not to squeeze little frogs into people’s hands in the dark, as it sometimes affected them unpleasantly. * * * * * All this time Polly was lying in the tent, quite exhausted with crying, and made more wretched by every sound of voices wafted towards her. Presently Gin appeared with her night-wrapper and various things for comfort sent her by the girls; and as she wearily undressed herself and prepared for the night, she found three little messages of comfort pinned on the neck and sleeves of her flannel gown, written in such colossal letters that she could easily read them by the moonlight. On the right sleeve:— Cheer up! ‘I will never desert Mr. Micawber!’ BELL. On the left sleeve:— DARLING POLLY,—Get well soon, or we shall all be sick in order to stay with you. Lovingly, MEG. _P.S._—Jack said you were the _life of the camp_! What do you think of that?? M. On the neck:— Dearest,—You have always called me the Fairy Godmother, and pretended I could see things that other people couldn’t. The boys (great stupids!) think you have the headache. We girls can all see that you are in trouble, but only the Fairy Godmother _knows why_; and though she can’t make a beautiful gold coach out of this pumpkin, because there’s something wrong about the pumpkin, yet she will do her best for Cinderella, and pull her out of the ashes somehow. ELSIE.