"I went out with nurse, and I can't find her."
By enquiry Mrs. Kenyon ascertainedthat the little girl had run after some flowers, while the careless nurse, not observing her absence, had gone on, and so lost her.
"What is your name, my little dear?" she asked.
"Florette."
"And what is your mamma's name?"
"Her name is mamma," answered the child, rather surprised. "Don't you know my mamma?"
Then it occurred to Mrs. Kenyon that the child was the daughter of a Mrs. Graham, a Northern visitor, who was spending some weeks with a family of relatives in the village. She had seen the little girl before, and even recalled the house where her mother was staying.
"Don't cry, Florette," she said. "I know where mamma lives. We will go and find mamma."
The little girl put her hand confidingly in that of her new friend, and they walked together, chatting pleasantly, till suddenly Florette, espying the house, clapped her tiny hands, and exclaimed joyfully:
"There's our house. There's where mamma lives."