I'll see what to do for you. Lie down, I tell you."

There was a small scuffle; and then the dog, realizing here was a
master, curled himself on top of some tennis shoes, and looked as if he
held his breath.

"All right," said Joel, with an approving pat. "Now don't you yip, even
if Dave opens this door." Then he shut it carefully, and rushed off down
to the long dining-room to the crowd of boys.

Joel ate his supper as rapidly as possible, lost to the chatter going on
around him. He imagined, in his feverishness, that he heard faint "yaps"
every now and then; and he almost expected to see everybody lay down
knife and fork.

"What's the matter with you?" He was aroused by seeing the boy next to
him lean forward to peer into his face. And in a minute he was conscious
that on the other side he was just as much of an object of attention. He
buried his face in his glass of milk; but when he took it out, they were
staring still the same.

"Ugh! stop your looking at me," growled Joel.

"What's the matter with you, anyway?" asked the other boy.

"Get away--nothing," said Joel crossly, and bestowing as much of a kick
as he dared on the other boy's shin.

"Ow! There is too."

"You're awfully funny," said the first boy, "you haven't spoken a word
since you sat down."

"Well, I ain't going to talk, if I don't want to," declared Joel. "Do
stop, Fletcher; everybody's looking."

But Fletcher wouldn't stop, and Joel had the satisfaction of seeing the
whole table, with the under-teacher, Mr. Harrow, at the head, making
him, between their mouthfuls, the centre of observation. The only
alleviation of this misery was that Percy was at another table, and with
his back to him.

David looked across in a worried way. "Are you sick, Joe?" he asked.

"No." Joel laughed, and began to eat busily. When he saw that, David
gave a sigh of relief.

Mr. Harrow was telling something just then that seemed of more than
common interest, and the boys, hearing Joel laugh once more, turned off
to listen. "Yes," said the under-teacher, "it was a dog that was--"

"Ugh!" cried Joel. "Oh, beg pardon," and his face grew dreadfully red,
as he tried to get as small as possible on his chair.

"It's a dog I used to own, Joel," said Mr. Harrow, smiling at him. "And
I taught him tricks, several quite remarkable ones."

"Yes, sir," mumbled Joel, taking a big bite of his biscuit; and for the
next quarter of an hour he was safe, as the funny stories l