The attempt was hardly a success. As the
wreath with which Fudge submitted to be crowned speedily fell apart,
she concluded that, instead of making a chain for herself, it would be
nicer to carry the oak twig for a sun-shade. At present, however, she
laid it carefully on the ground beside her flowers, and proceeded to
play in the stream, with bits of bark for boats. Fudge enjoyed this
too for a while, but soon he grew restless.
All at once the child became aware that the woods had grown darker; the
sunlight no longer glanced in among the green boughs; through the
foliage she caught a glimpse of the western sky, which was flecked with
flame and beryl and amber. Next she realized that it must be a great
while since dinner. With the sense of hunger came a feeling of dismay.
Where was she, and how should she get home? "It must be most supper
time, Fudge," she said, choking down a sob. The little dog looked up
into her face with affectionate concern, and thrust his cold nose into
her hand, as if to say encouragingly: "Trust me, and I will lead you
back." He began to sniff the ground; and, having found the scent,
endeavored to prevail upon his young mistress to follow his guidance.
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