ught that Sonny was merely trying to avoid the child. He
straightened up his tall figure, snatched the little one to his
breast, and exclaimed in a harsh voice, "If ye can't be nice to the
Kid, git out!"

The words "Git out!" with the tone in which they were uttered, would
have been comprehensible to a much meaner intelligence than Sonny's.
As if he had been whipped, he curled down his abbreviated tail, and
ran and hid himself in his kennel.

"Sonny didn't mean to be ugly to the Kid, father," protested Ann, "He
jest don't quite understand the situation yet, an' he's wonderin' why
ye don't make so much of him as ye used to. I don't blame him fer
feelin' a leetle mite left out in the cold."

Joe felt a vague suspicion that Ann might be right; but it was a very
vague suspicion, just enough to make him feel uneasy and put him on
the defensive. Being obstinate and something of a crank, this only
added heat to his irritation. "I ain't got no use fer any dawg that
don't know enough to take to a kid on sight!" he declared, readjusting
the little red cap on the child's curls.

[Illustration: "HE CURLED DOWN HIS ABBREVIATED TAIL, AND RAN."]

"Of course, father," acquiesced Ann discreetly; "but you'll find
Sonny'll be all right."

Here the child, who had been squirming with impatience, piped up, "I
want to go an' see my doggie in his little house!" he declared.

"Oh, no, Kid, we're goin' to let Sonny be fer a bit. We're goin' to
see the calf, the pretty black an' white calf, round back o' the barn,
now. You go along with Aunty Ann while I onhitch old Bill. An' then
we'll all go an' see the little pigs."

His mind altogether diverted by the suggestion of such strange
delights, the little fellow trotted off joyously with Ann, while Joe
Barnes led the old sorrel to the barn, grumbling to himself at what he
chose to call Sonny's "ugliness" in not making friends with the Kid.

* * * * *

From that hour Sonny's life was changed. In fact, it seemed to him no
longer life at all. His master's indifference grew swiftly to an
unreasoning anger against him; and as he fretted over it continually,
a malicious fate seemed to delight in putting him, or leading him to
put himself, ever in the wrong. Absorbed in longing for his master, he
hardly thought of the child at all. Several times, in a blundering
effort to make things right with Sonny and the Kid, Joe seated himself
on the back doorstep,