her till Sanch comes back."

But he was better than his word; for, just before the post was
reached, Bab, blinded by tears, tripped over the root of a tree, and,
rolling down the bank, landed in a bed of wet nettles. Ben had her
out in a jiffy, and vainly tried to comfort her; but she was past
any consolation he could offer, and roared dismally as she wrung her
tingling hands, with great drops running over her cheeks almost as
fast as the muddy little rills ran down the road.

"Oh dear, oh dear! I'm all stinged up, and I want my supper; and my
feet ache, and I'm cold, and everything is _so_ horrid!" wailed the
poor child lying on the grass, such a miserable little wet bunch that
the sternest parent would have melted at the sight.

"Don't cry so, Babby; I was real cross, and I'm sorry. I'll forgive
you right away now, and never shake you any more," cried Ben, so full
of pity for her tribulations that he forgot his own, like a generous
little man.

"Shake me again, if you want to; I know I was very bad to tag and lose
Sanch. I never will any more, and I'm so sorry, I don't know what to
do," answered Bab, completely bowed down by this magnanimity.

"Never mind; you just wipe up your face and come along, and we'll tell
Ma all about it, and she'll fix us as nice as can be. I shouldn't
wonder if Sanch got home now before we did," said Ben, cheering
himself as well as her by the fond hope.

"I don't believe _I_ ever shall, I'm so tired my legs wont go, and the