along now. Don't pet him any more, or he may follow us. Flossie, and
whoever owns him would not like it. Come on."

"Forward - march!" called Freddie, strutting along the moonlit path as
much like a soldier as he could imitate, tired as he was.

The Bobbseys and their faithful Dinah started off again toward the
distant trolley that would take them to their home. The dog sat down
and looked after them.

"I - I wish he was ours," said Flossie wistfully, waving her hand to the
dog.

The Bobbseys had not gone on very far before Nan, looking back, called
out:

"Oh, papa, that dog is following us!"

"He is?" exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey. "That's queer. He must have taken a
sudden liking to us. But I guess he'll go back where he belongs pretty
soon. Are you getting tired, little Fat Fireman? And you, my Fat
Fairy?"

"Oh, no, papa," laughed Flossie. "I sat down so much in the train that
I'm glad to stand up now."

"So am I," said Freddie, who made up his mind that he would not say he
was tired if his little sister did not. And yet, truth to tell, the
little Fat Fireman was very weary.