the tiny hand in hers and guided each mouthful down the little
red lane.

Over their heads the robin in the cherry tree by the door sat
high up on a twig and chirped a good-night song to his nestlings.
"Cherries are ripe, cherries are ripe, cherries are ripe in
June," sang the robin. At least that is what Leneli told the baby
he said, and surely she ought to know.

Before Baby Roseli had finished the last mouthful of her supper,
Father and Seppi appeared with the bundles, and then there was
the clatter of many little hoofs on the hard earth of the door-
yard, and round the corner of the old gray farm-house came big
brother Fritz with the goats. With Fritz came Bello, his faithful
dog, barking and wagging his tail for joy at getting home again.
Bello ran at once to Leneli and licked her hand, nearly upsetting
the bowl of milk in his noisy greeting, and the baby crowed with
delight and seized him by his long, silky ears.

"Down, Bello, down," cried Leneli, holding the bowl high out of
reach; "you'll spill the baby's supper!" And Bello, thinking she
meant that he should beg for it, sat up on his hind legs with his
front paws crossed and barked three times, as Fritz had taught
him to do.

"He must have a bite or he'll forget his manners," laughed Fritz,
and Leneli broke off a crumb of bread and tossed it to him. Bello
caught it before it fell, swallowed it at one gulp, and begged
for more.