r, waxing
enthusiastic; "and his name is Pepper."

"Pepper!" repeated his father; "no nice family ever had the name of
Pepper!"

"Well, I don't care," and Jasper's laugh was loud and merry; "he's
nice anyway,--I know; and the little thing's nice; and I'm going to see
them--can't I, father?"

"Dear me!" said his father; "how can you, Jasper? You do have the
strangest tastes I ever saw!"

"It's dreadful dull here," pleaded the boy, touching the right string;
"you know that yourself, father, and I don't know any boys around here;
and Prince and I are so lonely on our walks--do permit me, father!"

The old gentleman, who really cared very little about it, turned away,
muttering, "Well, I'm sure I don't care; go where you like," when a
knock was heard at the door, and the paper was handed in, which broke up
the conversation, and restored good humor.

The next day but one, Ben was out by the wood-pile, trying to break up
some kindlings for Polly who was washing up the dishes, and otherwise
preparing for the delights of baking day.

"Hulloa!" said a voice bethought he knew.

He turned around to see the merry-faced boy, and the big, black dog who
immediately began to wag his tail as if willing to recognize him.

"You see I thought you'd never look round," said the boy with a laugh.
"How's the little girl?"

"Oh! you have come, really," cried Ben, springing over the wood-pile
with a beaming face. "Polly!"

But Polly was already by the door, with dish-cloth in hand. "This is my
sister, Polly," began Ben--and then stopped, not knowing the boy's name.

"I'm Jasper King," said the boy, stepping upon the flat stone by Polly's
side; and taking off his cap, he put out his hand. "And this is Prince,"
he added.

Polly put her hand in his, and received a hearty shake; and then she
sprang over the big stove, dish-cloth and all, and just flung her arms
around the dog's neck.

"Oh, you splendid fellow, you!" said she. "Don't you know we all think
you're as good as gold?"

The dog submitted to the astonishing proceeding as if he liked it, while
Jasper, delighted with Polly's appreciation, beamed down on them, and
struck up friendship with her on the instant.

"Now, I must call Phronsie," said Polly, getting up, her face as red as
a rose.

"Is her name Phronsie?" asked the boy with interest.

"No, it's Sophronia," said Polly, "but we call her Phronsie."

"What a very funny name," said Jasper, "Sophronia is, for such a