"I think so, sir," said Peoria, timidly; "but, anyhow, there was
Larry;" and she showed signs of weeping.

"Oh, well, cheer up!" cried Uncle Jack. "I guess he's not
lost--only mislaid. I'll go and find him before you can say Jack
Robinson!"

"I'll go, too, if you please, sir," said Sarah Maud, "for it was
my place to mind him, an' if he's lost I can't relish my
vittles!"

The other Ruggleses stood rooted to the floor. Was this a dinner
party, forsooth; and, if so, why were such things ever spoken of
as festive occasions?

Sarah Maud went out through the hall, calling, "Larry! Larry!"
and without any interval of suspense a thin voice piped up from
below, "Here I be!" The truth was that Larry, being deserted by
his natural guardian, dropped behind the rest, and wriggled into
the hat-tree to wait for her, having no notion of walking
unprotected into the jaws of a dinner-party. Finding that she
did not come, he tried to crawl from his refuge and call
somebody, when--dark and dreadful ending to a tragic day--he
found that he was too much intertwined with umbrellas and canes
to move a single step. He was afraid to yell! When I have said
this of Larry Ruggles I have pictured a state of helpless terror
that ought to wring tears from every eye; and the sound of Sarah
Maud's beloved voice, some seconds later, was like a strain of
angel music in his ears. Uncle Jack dried his tears, carried him
upstairs, and soon had him in breathless fits of laughter, while