nd long ears--which is almost
as unpardonable as yellow shoes with a top hat.

When the wagon drew close to the foot of the lane, Sonny was still
uncertain. There might be other white faced sorrels than lazy old
Bill. The man in the wagon certainly looked like his beloved master,
Joe Barnes; but Joe Barnes was always alone on the wagon-seat, while
this man had a child beside him, a child with long, bright, yellow
hair and a little red cap. This to Sonny was a bewildering phenomenon.
But when at last the wagon turned up the lane, his doubts were finally
resolved. His stub of a tail jerked spasmodically, in its struggle to
wag. Then with two or three delirious yelps of joy he started madly
down the lane. At the sound of his voice the door of the gray house
opened. A tall, thin woman in a bluish homespun skirt and red calico
waist came out, and moved slowly across the yard to welcome the new
arrivals.

When Sonny, yelping and dancing, met the creaking wagon as it bumped
its way upward over the gullies, his master greeted him with a "Hello,
Sonny!" as usual; but to the dog's quick perception there was a
difference in his tone, a difference that was almost an indifference.
Joe Barnes was absorbed. At other times, he was wont to seem warmly
interested in Sonny's welcoming antics, and would keep up a running
fire of talk with him while the old sorrel plodded up the lane.
To-day, however, Joe's attention was occupied by the yellow-haired
child beside him; and Sonny's demonstrations, he knew not why, became
perceptibly less ecstatic. It was of no consequence whatever to him
that the child stared at him with dancing eyes and cried delightedly,
"Oh, Unc' Joe, what a pretty doggie! Oh, what a nice doggie! Can I
have him, Unc' Joe?"

"All right, Kid," said Joe Barnes, gazing down adoringly upon the
little red cap; "he's yourn. His name's Sonny, an' he's the best dawg
ever chased a chipmunk. He'll love ye, Kid, most as much as yer old
Unc' Joe an' Aunt Ann does."

When the yard was reached, the tall woman in the red calico waist was
at the side of the wagon before the driver's "Whoa!" brought the horse
to a stop. The little one was snatched down from the seat and hugged
vehemently to her heart.

"Poor lamb! Precious lamb!" she murmured. "I'll be a mother to you,
please God!"

"I want my mummie! Where's she gone to?" cried the child, suddenly
reminded of a loss which he was beginning to forget. But his aunt
changed the subjec