h nose and paw till the word "Sancho" lay before
him correctly spelt.

"Isn't that clever? Can he do any more?" cried Thorny, delighted.

"Lots; that's the way he gets his livin' and mine too," answered Ben,
and proudly put his poodle through his well-learned lessons with such
success that even Miss Celia was surprised.

"He has been carefully trained. Do you know how it was done?" she
asked, when Sancho lay down to rest and be caressed by the children.

"No 'm, father did it when I was a little chap, and never told me how. I
used to help teach him to dance, and that was easy enough, he is so
smart. Father said the middle of the night was the best time to give
him his lessons, it was so still then and nothing disturbed Sanch and
made him forget. I can't do half the tricks, but I'm going to learn
when father comes back. He'd rather have me show off Sanch than ride,
till I'm older."

"I have a charming book about animals, and in it an interesting account
of some trained poodles who could do the most wonderful things. Would
you like to hear it while you put your maps and puzzles together?"
asked Miss Celia, glad to keep her brother interested in their
four-footed guest at least.

"Yes 'm, yes 'm," answered the children, and fetching the book she read
the pretty account, shortening and simplifying it here and there to
suit her hearers.

"'I invited the two dogs to dine and spend the evening, and they came
with their master, who was a Frenchman. He had been a teacher in a deaf
and dumb school, and thought he would try the same plan with dogs. He
had also been a conjurer, and now was supported by Blanche and her
daughter Lyda. These dogs behaved at dinner just like other dogs, but
when I gave Blanche a bit of cheese and asked if she knew the word for
it, her master said she could spell it. So a table was arranged with a
lamp on it, and round the table were laid the letters of the alphabet
painted on cards. Blanche sat in the middle waiting till her master told
her to spell cheese, which she at once did in French, F R O M A G E.
Then she translated a word for us very cleverly. Some one wrote
_pferd_, the German for horse, on a slate. Blanche looked at it and
pretended to read it, putting by the slate with her paw when she had
done. "Now give us the French for that word," said the man, and she
instantly brought C H E V A L. "Now, as you are at an Englishman's
house, give it to us in English," and she brought me H O R S