You see they were both getting cross as well as hungry, for dinner-time was past long ago. In another hour they were half-starved.
“I spect we’re lost,” said Flaxie, calmly. “Going to rain, too; sun setting. Pretty near midnight—”
Upon this Milly began to scream.
“Well, then, what made you hide behind the lilac-bush, and not invite the folks, Milly Allen?” exclaimed Flaxie, feeling obliged to scold somebody; and then she too began to scream, though nobody heard, for they were three or four miles from the village.
They wound in and out, in and out, among the trees; but it was like a little bird putting his head through the bars of his cage. It did no good at all; they couldn’t get out.
Thoroughly tired at last and discouraged, the poor babes in the wood lay down and fell asleep in each other’s arms. I know it was a pretty sight,—the black head and the golden head so close together, and the beautiful bright trees bending over to say, “Good night.”