Greg and Hazy averred that they had walked enough for one day.

So the four boys donned white, while the other two remained behind in flannel and khaki.
Dick and the three companions of his stroll when almost in Fenton, were passing through a street of pretty little cottages when a tiny figure, clad in white ran out of the darkness, bumping into Dick's knees.
"Hello, little one!" cried Prescott, cheerily, picking up a wee little girl of four and holding her at arm's length.

"Hello, you're crying.

What's the matter?
Lost mother ?" "No; lost papa," wailed the little one.
"Perhaps we can find him for you," offered Tom, readily.
"Mollie! Mollie, where are you ?" came a woman's voice out of the darkness.
"Is this your little girl, madam ?" called Prescott.

"We'll bring her to you." In another moment the woman, young and pretty, also dressed in white, had reached the child and was holding her by the hand.
"Oh, you little runaway!" chided Dave, smilingly, as he bent over, wagging a finger at the child.
"No; it's papa that runned away," gasped the little one, in a frightened voice.