“But the rose heard him and she looked kindly down upon the poor toad. She knew how faithfully he had guarded her from the creepin’ and flyin’ things that would have spoiled her beauty.
“‘Come here,’ she said to the toad, bendin’ down upon her stalk to see him better. And the toad hopped close beneath her. ‘Come here,’ said the rose, ‘and I will make you, too, beautiful.’
“And then she called to the mornin’ breeze, ‘Shake me!’ and the breeze did so—ever so gently—and all the sparklin’, twinklin’ precious gems of dewdrops shook off the rose and fell upon the toad in a shower.
“And at once,” laughed Barnabetta, “the toad was covered with diamonds, and spangles, and glistenin’ drops of dew in which the sun was reflected, till the toad appeared to be encased in an armor of silver, trimmed with jewels, and all the creatures in the garden cried:
“‘Oh! how beautiful is the toad!’”
Agnes listened with delight to this fantasy from the trapeze performer. This gentle girl, telling pretty tales to Tess and Dot, was quite another person from “Barney” Scruggs, who had been tramping in boy’s clothing with the old clown.
“She can’t be wicked enough to have stolen that scrap-book,” Agnes told herself, with increasing confidence. “Dear me! I wish I’d never found the old thing up garret.”
The four Corner House girls went to church with Mrs. MacCall and Aunt Sarah. But Barnabetta would not go. She excused herself by saying that she did not wish to leave her father alone.
Sunday school followed the preaching service almost immediately; but as soon as this was over, Agnes hurried home. Ruth, with Tess and Dot, went around by the hospital to call on Mrs. Eland, the matron, and to enquire after Miss Pepperill.
They chanced to find the little gray lady sitting at her desk, and with certain yellowed old papers and letters, and several small books with ragged sheepskin covers, before her.