As they drove along, Frolic peeped from the bottom of the chaise, where it was curled up at Lucy's feet, and saw the crimson sunset. A sudden thought came, that it would be the last sunset it would see with a dog's eyes. When it scrambled up the stairs to the concert room, it thought, “I shall never go pattering up stairs again on dog's paws;” and when it entered the room, and saw the hundred little girls in white dresses and blue sashes, it looked about very gravely, saying to itself, “Soon I shall be a little girl in a white dress and blue sash;” and yet it knew not how all this was to happen. The concert began; chorus and solo, the sweet, clear strains arose in the air, and at every one the dog pricked up its ears; but every strain found and left it a little brown dog, lying on the step of the platform, and it began to think that a dog it should always remain. Just as it was in despair came a new piece, a solo, tender and entreating, as if a spirit were seeking its way through the lonely night air; and then a full chorus joined in, joyous and triumphant, with the tender tone running through it. Frolic lay with its head pressed close on its fore paws, thrilled through and through by the music. When it was over, Lucy turned to look for her dog, and saw a child, with rich brown curls, sitting on the step. “Have you any where seen a little brown dog, with a coral necklace on?” she asked. “I am the little dog,” answered the child. “And here is the coral necklace you gave me, round my neck.” “You look too good to steal my dog's necklace,” said Lucy. “Do I look too good to be your little dog?” “Nobody could be better than Frolic, who forgave my brother, and saved my life, and is so gentle to every one.” “Have you forgotten me, Lucy, in the two years I have been Frolic? Do you not know your friend Floribel?” Lucy threw her arms around her. “O Floribel, is it you? You have come back again! How glad I am! And yet I feel sorry to lose little Frolic, too. I wish you could be both Frolic and Floribel.” Edgar was gladly surprised when a little girl came out with Lucy, to ride home with them, instead of Frolic. “I owe it all to you,” she said, “that I have become a little girl. It was your beautiful music.” They had a lovely drive home in the moonlight, and Floribel staid with Lucy all night. Her grandmother did not much mind whether a little dog was at home or not. In the morning, instead of an eager paw scratching at the door, she heard a little girl's happy morning voice, saying, “Let me in, grandmother, please.” When she opened it, in bounded Floribel, kissed her grandmother, and caught up little Zach, dancing all about the room, in great delight. “Pray, be still,” cried her grandmother, “and let me see you. Are you really my own little Floribel, come back?” “Yes, grandmother, yes, Zach. Frolic has gone, and Floribel has come.” “'Ittle dog done, 'ittle dirl tome; me 'ove 'ittle dog, me 'ove 'ittle dirl,” was Zach's grave remark.