She staggered
back into a chair, fortunately of heavy architecture, and stared at the
apparition before her. Izzie came daintily in, sniffed at Morris,
sniffed at Miss Bailey, sniffed at Mrs. Mowgelewsky's ample skirts,
identified her as the owner of the pocket-book, laid it at her feet, and
extended a paw to be shaken.

"Mine Gott!" said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, "what for a dog iss that?" She
counted her wealth, shook Izzie's paw, and then stooped forward,
gathered him into her large embrace, and cried like a baby. "Mine Gott!
Mine Gott!" she wailed again, and although she spent five minutes in
apparent effort to evolve another and more suitable remark, her
research met with no greater success than the addition:

"He ain't a dog at all; he iss friends."

Miss Bailey had been sent to an eminently good college, and had been
instructed long and hard in psychology, so that she knew the psychologic
moment when she met it. She now arose with congratulations and
farewells. Mrs. Mowgelewsky arose also with Izzie still in her arms. She
lavished endearments upon him and caresses upon his short black nose,
and Izzie received them all with enthusiastic gratitude.

"And I think," said Miss Bailey in parting, "that you had better let
that dog come with me. He seems a nice enough little thing, quiet,
gentle, and very intelligent. He can live in the yard with Rover."

[Illustration: She staggered back into a chair, fortunately of heavy
architecture, and stared at the apparition before her]

Morris turned his large eyes from one to another of his rulers, and
Izzie, also good at psychologic moments, stretched out a pointed pink
tongue and licked Mrs. Mowgelewsky's cheek. "This dog," said that lady
majestically, "iss mine. Nobody couldn't never to have him. When I was
in mine trouble, was it mans or was it ladies what takes und gives me
mine money back? No! Was it neighbors? No! Was it you, Miss Teacher,
mine friend? No! It was that dog. Here he stays mit me. Morris, my
golden one, you wouldn't to have no feelin's 'bout mamma havin' dogs?
You wouldn't to have mads?"

"No, ma'am," responded her obedient son; "Missis Bailey she says it's
_fer_ boys they should make all things what is lovin' mit cats und dogs
und horses."

"Goot," said his mother; "I guess, maybe, that ain't such a
foolishness."

It was not until nearly bedtime that Mrs. Mowgelewsky reverted to that
part of Miss Bailey's conversation immediately preceding the discovery