a very demoralized handkerchief. Rob usually made
light of his own mishaps and was over ready to forgive if others were to
blame; but now he sat quite still, looking at the purple marks with such
a strange expression on his white face that Ted was troubled, though he
added with a laugh: 'Why, you're not afraid of a little dig like that,
are you, Bobby?'

'I am afraid of hydrophobia. But if Don is mad I'd rather be the one to
have it,' answered Rob, with a smile and a shiver.

At that dreadful word Ted turned whiter than his brother, and,
dropping sponge and handkerchief, stared at him with a frightened face,
whispering in a tone of despair:

'Oh, Rob, don't say it! What shall we do, what shall we do?'

'Call Nan; she will know. Don't scare Aunty, or tell a soul but Nan;
she's on the back piazza; get her out here as quick as you can. I'll
wash it till she comes. Maybe it's nothing; don't look so staggered,
Ted. I only thought it might be, as Don is queer.'

Rob tried to speak bravely; but Ted's long legs felt strangely weak as
he hurried away, and it was lucky he met no one, for his face would have
betrayed him. Nan was swinging luxuriously in a hammock, amusing herself
with a lively treatise on croup, when an agitated boy suddenly clutched
her, whispering, as he nearly pulled her overboard:

'Come to Rob in the barn! Don's mad and he's bitten him, and we don't
know what to do; it's all my fault; no one must know. Oh, do be quick!'

Nan was on her feet at once, startled, but with her wits about her, and
both were off without more words as they dodged round the house where
unconscious Daisy chatted with her friends in the parlour and Aunt Meg
peacefully took her afternoon nap upstairs.

Rob was braced up, and was as calm and steady as ever when they found
him in the harness-room, whither he had wisely retired, to escape
observation. The story was soon told, and after a look at Don, now in
his kennel, sad and surly, Nan said slowly, with her eye on the full
water-pan:

'Rob, there is one thing to do for the sake of safety, and it must
be done at once. We can't wait to see if Don is--sick--or to go for a
doctor. I can do it, and I will; but it is very painful, and I hate to
hurt you, dear.'

A most unprofessional quiver got into Nan's voice as she spoke, and her
keen eyes dimmed as she looked at the two anxious young faces turned so
confidingly to her for help.

'I know, burn it; well, do it, please; I can bear