Billy had floated a long, long time through the sweet, soft air: indeed he was gently settling down to earth again, when he discovered that the jolly old red faced sun was rolling off to his bed in the far west.

"Well," said he to himself, "if Father Sun is going to turn in for the night, and I see him putting on his white cloud night cap, I expect it's about time for me to do the same."

"Bow-wow," came a faint bark from under his coat.

"Why, it's Barker," said Billy, reaching in and patting a warm little head. "I'd almost forgotten you, old doggie, and I thank you for reminding me of the Singing Tree."

In a twinkling Billy was on the ground and digging a hole in the soft earth.

"I hate to pinch your tail, old fellow," said Billy, "but it's really necessary you know," and holding Barker's nose over the hole he gave his tail a gentle tweak.

"Bow-wow-wow."

Quickly Billy shovelled in the earth, and lo and behold, quicker than I can tell you about it, there stood the Singing Tree, bowing and smiling.

Just as Billy was going to wish the tree a polite good evening, he saw Barker scampering after a little beam of sunlight that had crept in through the branches of the tree. "Barker, come here," called Billy, but he was too late.

"Snap—gulp," and Barker had swallowed the sunlight.

"I hope it won't make you sick, doggie," said Billy, looking at him anxiously.

But Barker wrinkled his nose at him in such a happy dog smile and wagged his stubby little tail so contentedly that Billy decided he was used to the diet and turned to the Singing Tree.

"Good evening," said Billy, "I hope you are well."

"Mi?-so-so," sang the tree, "pause and rest at my bass."

"Excuse me, sir, but what is your name?" said Billy; "you see I'd like to know how to address you."

"C. Octavious Minor," sang the tree. "But it's time you slept. I'll look sharp for accidental intruders and pitch into them with my staff if they bother us; good night."

Then he began to sing softly:

And when the tree got to this point in his song he stopped. For Billy was sound asleep with Barker snuggled up in his arms, while from his half-opened lips came a contented snore.

Billy was awakened in the morning by the singing tree tickling him gently on the nose with one of its branches.

"Up—up," it sang.

Barker thinking it was calling "up pup" jumped up, and ran madly around the tree for his morning's exercise. And then suddenly there was no tree. Barker didn't notice this at first, and circled around where the tree had been three times more before he discovered that it was gone.

Have you ever seen a dog look surprised and hurt and just a little bit ashamed? Well, that's the way Barker looked when Billy picked him up and stowed him away again in his jacket.

"Well, I must be off," said Billy to himself.

"Don't hurry," said a voice at his elbow.

Billy was so startled that he stepped back, caught his foot in a vine, and rolled over and over on the ground. There, where a minute before had been nothing at all, stood a great red Tomato leaning on its vine.

"It's—it's a fine morning, sir," said Billy.

"A vine morning you mean," said the Tomato sourly.

"I beg your pardon?" said Billy, because he hadn't quite understood the Tomato.

"Granted for just this once. But don't do it again."

"What?"

"Anything—great tin cans! how I hate boys."

"I'm sorry, sir," said Billy.

"No, you're not," grumbled the Tomato; "you say you are, but you're not; boys are never sorry."

"Why don't you like boys, sir? I'm sure"—and then he stopped. He was on the point of saying "boys like tomatoes" when he remembered that this might sound a little personal and thought better of it.

The Tomato did not notice this, however, and said, wiping a dew tear from his eye, "A boy threw my favourite sister at a cat last week and I have never been able to abide boys since; and, come to think of it, you look like that boy."

"Oh! no, sir, it wasn't I," said Billy, frightened. "I—I've only just come."

"Well, maybe not; goodness knows, though, you're ugly enough. Where are you going?"

"I'm taking a message to Bogie Man, sir; and—and I really must go at once. Good bye."

"Oh! ho! so you're the boy Bumbus warned me about last night. I guess you'll have to stay here," said the Tomato threateningly.

This made Billy angry. "I guess not," he said, and gave a great jump into the air.

"Not so fast, Mr. Rubber Ball, not so fast," said the Tomato in Billy's ear. And though Billy was many, many feet away from the ground, Tomato's vines had grown right up to him, while one of his tendrils had wound itself about his feet.

Not only that but hundreds of other tomatoes, not quite so large as the first one it is true, but large enough to frighten Billy, were shaking their heads at him threateningly.

But Billy plucked up his courage and said in a voice that was a wee bit shaky, "Come, now, don't give me any of your tomato sauce; if you're not careful I'll squash you."

"Even then I'd be some pumpkins," shouted the Tomato, nearly bursting with rage, "and as everybody knows a well red tomato is not a greeny, I certainly should be able to catsup with a small boy."

"You ought to go on the stage," said Billy, trying to smile; "you really are very funny."

This seemed to mollify the Tomato. "Some of my family have gone on as soupers. What would you suggest for me, comedy or tragedy?"

"Comedy, by all means," answered Billy, settling himself more comfortably on a large leaf, because, of course, having stopped moving, he would have fallen had he had nothing to support him.

"I can recite," said the Tomato. "Don't you want to hear me?"

"I'd be delighted, only, you know, I'm late, and—"

"You will be the late lamented if you don't sit tight, my boy," said the Tomato, sourly. "Listen."

TOMATO'S RECITATION.

"Good," said Billy, "it really must be very funny indeed when it is well done," and pop he had jumped on Tomato's head, given a quick spring, and had sailed off before Tomato realized what he was up to.

"I'm glad Tomato recited; he was so out of breath when he finished that he couldn't grow after me," said Billy to himself when he saw that he was safe from pursuit.

"I wonder what Honey Girl is doing today." And I fear that he was still thinking so hard about Honey Girl that he forgot to notice when he next dropped to the ground. Anyway, he was standing deep in thought when something tapped him on the shoulder.

"Salute!" said a stern voice. Looking up Billy saw that he was surrounded by hundreds of grim-faced soldiers, dressed in uniforms of the very deepest indigo, and all wearing blue glasses. And such a thin, sad, hollow-cheeked, hollow-eyed officer as had tapped him on the shoulder! Billy could tell he was an officer because of the gun metal sword he carried and the epaulettes of crepe that he wore.

"Salute," said the officer again in a deep, sepulcheral tone.

"Yes, sir," said Billy, cracking his heels together and putting his hand up to his cap as he had seen soldiers do.

"That's not the proper salute. Take out your handkerchief and wipe your right eye," said the officer. "That's the proper salute for the Blues."

Billy did as he was told with a sinking heart. Everything seemed so changed by the Regiment of Blues. The sun had gone under a cloud, the wind whistled dismally, a frog croaked in a nearby pond, and all together Billy came near to wanting to use his handkerchief in earnest.

"So you think you are going to see Bogie Man."

"Yes, sir, I am."

"You're not, as sure as my name is Colonel Solemncholly."

"Excuse me, but I am," said Billy staunchly.

"I knew it, I knew it," said the Colonel, sadly. "He is too fat to give up easily—goodness, how I hate fat people—they laugh."

"Don't you ever laugh, sir?"

"I'd be court martialed if I did."

"But aren't you Commander?" asked Billy.

"Yes, of the Blues, but you know we're the away-from-home guard of Bogie Man, and he is our real Commander."

"Oh! I see. Then you can tell me how to get to Never Was."

"Indeed not. We were sent out to stop you, and that reminds me—Corporal Punishment and Private Tear, seize this boy."

"Snap," went the whip in Corporal Punishment's hand, "Crack," it struck Private Tear on the shoulder, and snuffing and wiping his eyes, Private Tear stepped out of the ranks.

"Seize him and throw him in the Dumps," cried Colonel Solemncholly.

As the Colonel spoke the drums gave a long dismal roll and the band struck up a funeral march.

Corporal Punishment's whip was circling in the air preparatory to coming down on Billy's head, and Private Tear was getting ready to put his handkerchief over his eyes when Billy laughed. It wasn't because he felt like laughing at all, but because Barker in snuggling closer to him had tickled him in the ribs.

"Look out, he's armed!" cried Colonel Solemncholly, Corporal Punishment and Private Tear in one breath.

This gave Billy an idea, and he burst out into a loud laugh.

"Throw a wet blanket over him," commanded the Colonel. "Regiment, carry arms!"

At that the soldiers drew out their pocket-handkerchiefs, held them to their eyes, reversed their guns, and advanced boldly on Billy, while the band played the tune the old cow died on.

Billy continued to force his laugh, trying hard to think of some way out of his difficulty. He didn't like the idea of the wet blanket, and he couldn't jump or run because Corporal Punishment's whip was wound around his neck.

"Double quick!" cried the Colonel. "Catch him before the sun comes out."

Barker stirred uneasily in Billy's pocket.

"Saved!" cried Billy. "It's worth trying." And quickly taking Barker out of his pocket, he held him by his hind legs and gently thumped his little stomach.

"Plump," and out fell the bar of sunlight he had swallowed the night before. When it struck the ground it burst into a million dancing, sparkling bits of golden sunshine, and presto! the Blues had disappeared, lock, stock and barrel.

And there stood Billy, in a glow of sunlight on the beautiful green grass, listening to the sweet notes of forest birds in the trees nearby.

"Now I know how to get rid of the Blues," sang Billy to himself, as he leapt into the air, "a good hearty laugh and a bit of sunshine will always disperse them."