Dora Johnson was a fat, chubby little thing, round as a ball, and like the "Dumpling" her school-mates called her; looking as if she was never troubled by a pain or an ache. But she was subject now and then to a pain and fulness in her head, for which the best remedy was a turn in the open air; and when one of these attacks came on in school, Miss Ashton always allowed her to go for this, knowing that Dora was a child to be trusted, who would return to her studies as soon as she was able. Taken in time, they passed away soon with but little trouble, and her kind teacher was watchful to prevent them as far as possible. "Dora, my dear, does your head trouble you?" asked Miss Ashton, as she saw the child press her hand to her forehead, while her face flushed suddenly. "Yes'm," answered Dora, dropping her book. "Then wrap your cloak about you and go for a turn on the piazza or in the garden, till you are better," said the lady. Dora gladly obeyed, thankful for the relief which the fresh, bracing air would bring to her throbbing head. Going for her cloak, she threw it around her, ran downstairs and out upon the piazza. Her step was light; and whatever sound her little feet might have made upon the floor was drowned by the loud and continuous hammering made by some workmen, who were tinning the roof of a neighboring house. Dora walked once or twice the length of the piazza, and was beginning to feel better, when she heard the sound of voices below; and presently she saw the cook come out from the kitchen-door, followed by Marcia, the colored girl. Cook had a large bundle in her arm, and was evidently going out. A door in the side of the garden-wall opened upon the street which bounded one side of it; and, unfastening this, the cook passed out, saying to Marcia,-- "Now mind and keep the door shut; and don't you be poking your head out, and leaving your work." With which she disappeared; and Marcia shut and bolted the door, then cut one or two foolish antics as though she were pleased to be rid of her. She did not see Dora; for the end of the piazza where the little girl stood looking out at her was screened by a lattice over which ran a vine. There were no leaves on the vine now, it is true; but the stems and tendrils helped to make that corner a good hiding-place from any one who stood below. Dora had no thought of hiding from Marcia; and she was about to speak to her, when she saw the colored girl, after looking carefully about her, stoop down, and with a bit of stick begin to poke and pry between the stones at the bottom of the wall, which was somewhat out of repair at this part, and showed one or two large cracks running along just above the ground. "What can she be doing?" thought Dora; and curiosity held her silent till she should see what Marcia would be at. Though hidden herself, she could see the girl very well, peeping down at her, as she did, through the lattice and the vine.