rk forthwith.

"All right!" said the embryo surgeon, with a sigh; "only they're about
all I have to tell that is really interesting. Well, it grew hotter and
hotter. Dr. Flower didn't seem to mind the heat much; but Jock and
I--well, we did."

"Oh, my dear little Jock!" cried Hildegarde, remorsefully. "To think of
my never having asked for him. How is the dear doggie?"

"He's all right now," replied Bubble, "But there was one hot spell last
month, that we thought would finish the pup. Hot? Well, I should--I
mean, I should think it was! You had to put your boots down cellar every
night, or else they'd be warped so you couldn't put 'em on in the
morning."

"Bubble!" said Hildegarde, holding up a warning finger. But Bubble would
not be repressed again.

"Oh, Miss Hilda, you don't know anything about it!" he said; "excuse me,
but really you don't. The sidewalks were so hot, the bakers just put
their dough out on them, and it was baked in a few minutes. All the
Fifth Avenue folks had fountain attachments put on to their carriages,
and sprinkled themselves with iced lavender water and odycolone as they
drove along; and the bronze statue in Union Square melted and ran all
over the lot."

"Rose, what shall we do to this boy?" cried Hildegarde, as the youthful
Munchausen paused for breath. "And you aren't telling me a word about my
precious Jock, you little wretch!"

"One night," Bubble resumed,--"I'm in earnest now, Miss Hilda,--one
night it seemed as if there was no air to breathe; as if we was just
taking red-hot dust into our lungs. Poor little Jock seemed very sick;
he lay and moaned and moaned, like a baby, and kept looking from the
doctor to me, as if he was asking us to help him. I was pretty nigh beat
out, too, and even the doctor seemed fagged; but we could stand it
better than the poor little beast could. I sat and fanned him, but that
didn't help him much, the air was so hot. Then the doctor sent me for
some cracked ice, and we put it on his head and neck, and _that_ took
hold! 'The dog's in a fever!' says the doctor. 'We must watch him
to-night, and if he pulls through, I'll see to him in the morning,' says
he. Well, we spent that night taking turns, putting ice on that dog's
head, and fanning him, and giving him water."

"My dear Bubble!" said Hildegarde, her eyes full of tears. "Dear good
boy! and kindest doctor in the world! How shall I thank you both?"

"We weren't going to let him die," said Bubble,