Somehow the "choc'late ca'amels" tasted sweeter
again when she shared them with Fred, and she couldn't help saying, "Ain't they boolicious, Freddie?"
She hadn't time to tell Freddie how she came possessed of all her treasures, for there again appeared at the gate the same great man, with his cry, "Brother for sale!"
"No, no!" screamed Molly, throwing her two fat arms round Fred, at the same time crying, "Run away Freddie, quick! run away."
Now considering that Fred had the doll and the kitten in his lap, and his sister's arms around his neck, it wasn't strange that the little fellow didn't run.
"I'll give you ten dollars for this boy," said the great man, unwinding Molly's arms, and picking fat Fred up, and thrusting him like a roll of cotton batting under his arm.
Molly screamed and—and—well—she woke.
She hadn't been swinging on the gate at all; there wasn't any horrid, rusty-faced man standing by her; she had been asleep in school and dreaming.
But she couldn't believe it; and with all Miss Winche's kind coaxing, she wouldn't lift her face from her desk, and would only sob, "I want my Freddie! I want my Freddie!"
The funniest part of it was, the child hadn't been asleep five minutes. She had been idly listening to