'Can you fancy that I really got to love the trots? I did not want to know who they were, or what sort of a father and mother they had--they were well taken care of, that was evident, for somehow, knowing anything more about them would have spoilt them for being my funny little trots. 'But, for several weeks of the three months we spent at St. Austin's, the sight of these happy little creatures was one of my greatest pleasures, and a day without a glimpse of them would have seemed blank and dull. 'There came a time, however, when for many days I did not see my little friends. The weather was bad just then, and mamma said she was sure they had got colds, that would be all that was wrong with them, but somehow I felt uneasy. I asked our doctor, when he called, if there was much illness about, and he, fancying I was nervous on my own account, replied, "Oh no, with the exception of two or three cases of croup, he had no serious ailments among his patients: it was a very healthy season." 'I got frightened at the idea of croup, and cross-questioned him to discover if my trots were among the sufferers, but he shook his head. All his little patients were mere infants; he did not even know the trots by sight. 'Then mamma suggested another very reasonable explanation of their disappearance. '"They have probably left St. Austin's," she said. "Many people come here for only the _very_ worst of the winter, and that is about over now." 'But even this did not satisfy me. I was certain something was wrong with Doll and Dot, and I wasted, I should be ashamed to say how many hours gazing out of the window in hopes of catching sight of the familiar little figures. 'At last, one day, when I had almost left off hoping ever to see them again, suddenly, _two_ figures appeared on the Esplanade, a stone's throw from our window. 'Who were they? Could it be--yes, it must be _one_ of the trots, led by, not Bessie, no, this maid was a stranger. Where could Bessie be? And oh, _where_ was my other little trot? For, even at some yards' distance, I saw something sadly different in the appearance of the one little figure, slowly coming along in our direction. It was dressed--hat, coat, gloves, socks and all--it was dressed in deep mourning. 'I seized my hat and rushed out to meet them. Mamma thought I was going out of my mind I believe. When I found myself in the open air, I tried to control myself and look like the rest of the people walking quietly along, though my heart was beating violently, and I felt as if I could not speak without crying. But when I got up to the one little trot and its attendant, the sight of her strange face composed me. She was so different from Bessie--old and stiff and prim looking. I stooped to kiss the child, Dot or Doll, I knew not which. "How are you, darling?" I said. "And where is----" I stopped short. 'The trot looked up in my face.