“Oh, Robbie!” she said, almost breathless with delight and anticipation. “I thought you never, never, never would come; and mamma has coaxed and scolded to get me from the window, watching for you. She says it’s so unbecoming and unladylike to be so impatient; but I couldn’t help it, it’s so long since I had a ride. How nice the old pony looks, doesn’t he? and o-oh! you’ve had the buggy newly painted, too. What a grand time we will have! Come, I can’t wait any longer.” The little witch was about to spring down the step, when a voice from within arrested her. “Dora, Dora, wait, my child, you have no collar or gloves. Your hat is on wrong side front, and your cape is not fastened; come here, my dear, and let me fix you.” A quiet, lady-like looking woman followed the pleasant voice, and approached her lovely little daughter with the missing collar and gloves. “Good-morning, Robert,” she said, smiling. “Did you ever see such a little Miss Wild-fire before?” “Good-morning, auntie! I can’t blame Dora a mite, for I can hardly keep still myself this bright day. I wish you could go with us.” “Thank you, Robert, I fear Dora would hardly consent, for she thinks it is a great thing for you to take her out alone. How is your father to-day?” “He is about as usual, only he does not seem to be in very good spirits. I told him the other day he would be happier if he was a poor man and had to work for a living. He would then have something besides himself to think about.” “What did he say to that?” asked Mrs. Dupont. “Oh, he only laughed and said I was a queer boy, and that I might work for my living if I wanted to.” “Now, Dora,” said her mother, “you must hold still or I shall never be able to dress you. Put on your gloves while I pin the collar. I fear Robert will not wish to take you riding often if you don’t make a better appearance. Ladies never go to ride without their gloves.” “But, mamma, I ain’t a lady; I’m only a little girl, and I hate gloves and starched things.” The bright little face was very red just now from the effort of putting on the troublesome gloves, and there was something very like a pout upon the red lips. “Well, never mind, dear,” returned her mother, kindly, “you will forget all about them after you have started. Have a happy time, and come home and tell me all about it. I hope you are a careful driver,” she added, turning to Robert. “You won’t forget that Dora is my all now.” “You may trust me, auntie, and then old Prince is so gentle there is no fear. Come, Brightie, you are ready now, and we will start.” He took Dora by the hand, and leading her to the buggy, put her carefully in; then unfastening the horse he sprang lightly after her, and with smiles and waving of hands they started, and were soon out of sight. Mrs. Dupont stood looking after them for a few minutes, a happy smile upon her fine face. She was a widow, and this one pet lamb—this bright and winsome Dora was her all in the world.