The Dodo, who had come into the room at that moment, thought that he, too, ought to have a share in the welcoming, and, in grotesque imitation of Marjorie, he tried to jump up into the gentleman's arms, crying excitedly, "Oh, Papa! Papa!" just as she had done. "Good gracious!" exclaimed the children's father, drawing back in dismay, and gazing at the clumsy bird. "What on earth is this?" And then, when they tried to explain--all speaking at once--they made such a confusion that he was glad to put his hands to his ears, and to cry out that they must reserve the story till they reached home. And after thanking the gentleman for all his kindness, the children and their father said good-by, and went down to the carriage which was waiting at the door to drive them away. It had been decided, despite the children's pleading, that the Dodo had better _not_ go home with them; and so, with many promises to write and invite him soon, they took an affectionate farewell of their old friend; and the last view they had of him, as he stood at the window, meekly flourishing a limp glove, showed that he was moved to tears at having to part from them. What happened to him after the children had gone I have never been able quite to find out. It _is_ said that, later on in the day, a curious-looking bird was seen by the people in the Strand, clumsily flying away over the tops of the houses, clutching a roll of papers in one claw. And from away down in the country comes a weird story of two countrymen, walking across a field, being--to use their own description--"flabbergasted!" at seeing a great bird flying over their heads, screaming out a lot of aggravating personal remarks as he passed, and finally dropping, from the end of one of his pinions, a soiled white kid glove, the loss of which seemed to cause him great uneasiness; but whether--as I shrewdly suspect--this was the Dodo, or not, I have never actually discovered. The people at Suffolk House, including Perkins, maintain a most mysterious silence on the subject, and will afford me no information whatever; and the only consolation which I can find, in my endeavors to ascertain whether these things really happened or not, is the fact that, on the island of the lake at the Crystal Palace, _all the curious animals which the Ambassador is said to have turned into stone, are really there_--you may see them for yourself--and I hope, when next you go to Sydenham, you will hunt them up. And if so, you will notice--what struck me as being a very conclusive proof of the truth of the narrative--that the Palaeotherium's tail really looks as if it were broken off, about four or five inches from the end; and decidedly as though he _might_ have worn a false one while he was alive. THE END. * * * * * * A. L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular Writers, 52-58 Duane Street, New York BOOKS FOR BOYS.