"Why, I live in Baltimore," said Rock. "What street do you live on, Florence?"

Florence told him, and they found it was in the next street to that on which Rock lived, so they all began to feel like old friends.

"If I had my scroll saw here, I could make you each a chair for your dolls," said Rock. "Maybe my mother will let me send for it. I will ask her."

"Oh, that would be lovely," said the girls.

"And I will lend you some of my books to read," said Dimple. "If you will please hand me that little cane, we will go in and you can choose them."

"Oh, thank you," said Rock. "I shall like to have them, for I like to read better than to do anything else."

They all went in and found Rock's mother and Mrs. Dallas in the parlor.

Dimple told her mamma what they had come for, and her mamma suggested her taking Rock into the library first, as he might find something there that he liked.

So Rock was taken to the bookcase, and found there a book of travels he had been wanting to read, so he bade them good-bye, with it under his arm, promising soon to come again.

Then Dimple and Florence returned to the garden where they had left a colony of gra.s.shoppers imprisoned in a small house built for them out of bits of wood and bark.

"Baby Gra.s.shopper has gone," said Florence, in dismay, as she peeped in to see the prisoners.

"I knew he would get out; he was so little," returned Dimple. "Let's set them all free, Florence. We'll pretend that they escaped in the night, or that peace has been declared."

"Or that a tornado blew down their prison."

"Yes, that will be the best. We'll blow real hard, and maybe it will come down."

So, with cheeks much puffed out they blew and blew, but without avail, and finally they picked up their hats and fanned the little bark structure so vigorously that it toppled over, and the gra.s.shoppers escaped in every direction, the children laughing to see how quickly they disappeared.

They sat there in the gra.s.s wondering what to do next when Dimple exclaimed, "There comes papa with Mr. Coulter,--he's the carpenter, you know--I wonder what he is going to do. See, Mr. Coulter is measuring the ground, and papa is explaining something. I can tell by the way he keeps doing so, with his hand. He always does that when he is explaining. Help me up, Florence, and let's go over there and see what's going on. Papa must mean to have something built. I hope it isn't a fence. No, it can't be that, for it would be too near the other one.

Isn't it funny to watch men talking? They do so many funny things. Mr.

Coulter keeps nodding his head like a horse."

Florence laughed and they made their way over to where the two men stood. As soon as they were within speaking distance, Dimple began to put her questions. "Are you going to build something, papa? What is it?

Please don't say it's a fence, or a--a pig-sty."

Mr. Coulter chuckled as he went on laying his foot-rule along the ground.

"I hope it won't turn into a pig-sty," Mr. Dallas replied, with a smile.

"It won't unless little pigs get into it."

"Are you going to keep little pigs?" Dimple asked.

"I didn't say so."

"Oh, papa, you are so mystiferious. I wish you would tell us all about it. What are you going to build? Any sort of house?"

"Yes, one sort of house."

"What is it to be for?"

"Little chicks."

"Ah!" Dimple was quite satisfied. "I see. You need a new hen house.

Isn't the old one big enough? To be sure we don't get very many eggs just now, for so many of the hens are sitting. Oh, I know, maybe you are going to build a place like Mr. Lind's, with a--what is that thing? A inkybator. Are you going to have one of those? and a brooder? Are you, papa?"

"I haven't decided exactly what is to be in it, just yet. I think we'll let mamma see to that--she knows best what is needed. You shall know all about it in good time. But, Dimple, I don't want you to worry Mr.

Coulter with questions, and I want you two little girls to keep away from the building while the work is going on."

"Yes, uncle." Florence gave her promise promptly.

"Yes--papa--but--" Dimple was disappointed. She dearly liked to watch the workmen when they came on the place, and she felt this was a deprivation which seemed unnecessary. "Why, papa, can't we look at the workmen? We won't ask questions and bother them," she said.

"I think it is best that you shouldn't this time. Can't you trust papa?

When the proper time comes I'll show you the whole thing, and explain it all. Meantime I want you to be an obedient little girl, and keep out of the way."

Dimple looked up wistfully.

"Won't you please your father by minding what he says?" continued Mr.

Dallas.

"Yes, papa," replied Dimple, faintly, "I will be sure to mind, only I wish you could let me see the house going up. It is such fun to climb about over the boards and things."

"I know it is, and I know I'm requiring a great deal of you, but I think in the end you will see why," returned her father.

"Have we many little chicks to go in it. I mean will there be a great many?"

Mr. Dallas and Mr. Coulter glanced at each other and smiled; then Mr.

Dallas said, "It might be a good plan to go to the barn and see how old Speckle is getting on. Her time is about up, so perhaps we'll find some little chicks. I'll carry you there on my back."

"And maybe we'll find some eggs," spoke up Florence, who dearly liked to hunt eggs. "We found two yesterday. Indeed, uncle, I think you do need more hens, for auntie said yesterday that she didn't get all the eggs she wanted."

They found old Speckle ready to be quite fl.u.s.tered when they took her off the nest, for they found that four little chicks were already hatched, and the sh.e.l.ls of several other eggs were chipped.

Mr. Dallas gave the children each two of the little chicks to carry up to the house, that they might be kept safely till Speckle came off with the rest of the brood, and Bubbles, who had followed them, trotted along behind with her hands full of the eggs they were fortunate enough to find.

The new building was begun at once, and Dimple found it hard to keep away from it, but she resolutely stuck to her promise. One day, to be sure, she did not venture nearer than usual, but suddenly she exclaimed in a loud voice, "Get thee hence, satan!" and turning ran directly into Bubbles who, as usual, had followed her.

"What dat yuh call me, Miss Dimple," exclaimed Bubbles, in an aggrieved tone.

"You! Oh, I wasn't talking to you."

This seemed rather a lame excuse to Bubbles, since no one else was near.

"Ya.s.s 'm, yuh is call me sumpin'," she insisted. "Dey ain't n.o.body else."

"There was somebody else," Dimple replied, with dignity. "And don't you contradict me. I reckon I know what I'm talking about better than you do."

This puzzled Bubbles, but it also silenced her, although she looked furtively around to see where Dimple's hidden acquaintance might be; that somebody else to whom she spoke so defiantly. "Hit's dat no 'count little n.i.g.g.ah Jim, I'll be bound," she muttered, under her breath. "He done shy a stone at the de birds and dat mek Miss Dimple mad. She don't 'low n.o.body 'buse de birds." Thus settling the matter, she cheerfully smiled when Dimple gave her a glance, and Dimple laughed. Then she stood still.