"Yes, of course," said mamma, quite lost in her story by now.

"I wonder," continued Max, "I wonder if Him ever leaves it in the garden after Him's gone up—after Him has been doing the flowers, you know, mamma."

"I daresay—yes, very likely. Now do go, Max."

"Does you really think so, mamma?" and Max's eyes, which had begun to look as if the dustman had been passing by, grew bright and eager again. "I'll look and see if I can't find it then, some day," he said to himself, as he climbed up-stairs. For Max felt sure that whatever[Pg 21] mamma said must be true. And wonderful dreams came to the little four-year-old man that night—dreams compared with which, all that Jack found at the top of his famous bean-stalk would have seemed nothing.

[Pg 21]

The next morning brought unlooked-for disappointment to the little fellow, for it was rainy and stormy. No going out for Max—he must stay quietly in the nursery. And he looked so very sad about it that mamma was a little surprised: he was usually so cheerful and contented.

"You had plenty of running about yesterday, Maxie," she said. "We cannot expect it always to be fine. To-morrow will be sunny again very likely," and at this Max brightened up again.

"Him will bring the ladder then, perhaps," he said to himself.

Mamma proved a true prophet, "To-morrow" was a lovely day. So lovely that she and Max's father drove away to some distance, leaving word that they would not be back till the evening.

"Good-bye, darling. Be a good boy. Nurse will let you play in the garden all the afternoon," were their last words to the happy little face waving good-bye from the window.

But late that evening when they returned, they were met by a crowd of white-faced frightened servants, with a sad story to tell. "Master Max was not to be found. They had hunted up and down—everywhere. He was playing in the garden beside nurse, and she just left him for an instant to fetch her work, and when she came back he was gone—she gave the alarm at once, and ever since they had been searching." But in vain. Yet where could he be? There was no pond into which he could have fallen—no high bank even, over which he could have rolled.

The garden was the safest there could be, many a score of times had Max played there alone, though within 

 Prev. P 9/50 next