gone wrong; indeed, everything had been much easier than he could have
hoped. Perhaps it was the weariness that had crept into his legs, and
the hollowness that began to appear in his stomach; but, somehow,
although in the morning he had expected to find Gay's new mothers
beckoning from every window, so that he could scarcely choose between
them, he now felt as if the whole race of mothers had suddenly become
extinct.

Soon the village came in sight, nestled in the laps of the green hills
on both sides of the river. Timothy trudged bravely on, scanning all the
dwellings, but finding none of them just the thing. At last he turned
deliberately off the main road, where the houses seemed too near
together and too near the street, for his taste, and trundled his family
down a shady sort of avenue, over which the arching elms met and clasped
hands.

Rags had by this time lowered his tail to half-mast, and kept strictly
to the beaten path, notwithstanding manifold temptations to forsake it.
He passed two cats without a single insulting remark, and his entire
demeanor was eloquent of nostalgia.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Timothy disconsolately; "there's something wrong with
all the places. Either there's no pigeon-house, like in all the
pictures, or no flower garden, or no chickens, or no lady at the window,
or else there's lots of baby-clothes hanging on the wash-lines. I don't
believe I shall ever find"--

At this moment a large, comfortable white house, that had been
heretofore hidden by great trees, came into view. Timothy drew nearer to
the spotless picket fence, and gazed upon the beauties of the side yard