“Oh, Flo! I want you, dollie! Where are you?”
But no answer came, and then Jan, with a little laugh, said:
“Oh, it’s silly to call! A doll can’t hear, of course. We only make-believe they can. And this is real—it isn’t make-believe. Flo is really gone!” and tears came into her eyes.
“I’ll help you look for her,” offered Mary. “We won’t play party any more. It won’t be any fun. Come on, we’ll have a doll hunt.”
“You’d better put your doll in the house,” advised Jan. “Somebody may take her, too.”
“I guess I will,” agreed Mary.
Then, when she came out after putting her Anna Belle, as her doll was named, safely in her little bed, the two girls began once more to search for Flo.
They had looked in all the places they could think of around the house and porch, and were beginning on the bushes, which were down along both sides of the path, when Jan happened to think of her little brother.
“Oh, where is Trouble?” she suddenly cried.
“Here I is,” came the quick answer, and the little fellow, his face and hands very dirty, came out from behind a snowball bush. He had been picking the white balls that looked like little drops of snow.