She stood there poising herself
on her crutches, poor little thing, and smiling lovingly up at Peter.
"Oh, you darling!" cried Peter, catching her up in his arms. "How did
you get in here?"
"I stole in behind one of the Monks," said she. "I saw him going up
the street past our house, and I ran out and kept behind him all the
way. When he opened the gate I whisked in too, and then I followed him
into the garden. I've been here with the dollies ever since."
"Well," said poor Peter, "I don't see what I am going to do with you,
now you are here. I can't let you out again; and I don't know what the
Monks will say."
"Oh, I know!" cried the little girl gayly. "I'll stay out here in the
garden. I can sleep in one of those beautiful dolls' cradles over
there; and you can bring me something to eat."
[Illustration: THE BOYS AT WORK IN THE CONVENT GARDEN.]
"But the Monks come out every morning to look over the garden, and
they'll be sure to find you," said her brother, anxiously.
"No, I'll hide! O, Peter, here is a place where there isn't any doll!"
"Yes; that doll didn't come up."
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do! I'll just stand here in this place
where the doll didn't come up, and nobody can tell the difference."
"Well, I don't know but you can do that," said Peter, although he was
still ill at ease.
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