was _very_ pretty. Martin told me the
story. She knowed the little boy. And one day the little boy lostened
the little dog. He always had it on the nursery table at breakfast and
dinner and tea; and he used to 'atend to feed it. Sometimes he put it on
the edge of his plate, and sometimes if he 'atended it was 'firsty he
put it on the edge of the milk-jug. And one day he lostened it. It was
there at the beginning of tea he was sure, but at the end it wasn't
there. And he looked and looked and looked but he couldn't find it; and
the nurse looked and looked, but she couldn't find it. So the little boy
cried. He cried dedfully, but he couldn't find it. And the nurse was
vexed 'cos he wouldn't stop crying. She wasn't as kind as Martin. So he
had to go to bed crying, and the next morning when he got up he cried
again for his little doggie. And his Mamma said she would buy him
another, but he didn't care for that. He said he wouldn't like any but
his own dear doggie with only three legs. Well, that day they had
rice-pudding for dinner. The little boy kept crying even when he was
eating his dinner, and they zeally didn't know what to do with him. But
what do you think came? He put some pudding in his mouf, and there was
some'sing hard. He thought it was a stone, and he feeled to see what it
was, and it was his little dog that had been cooked in the
pudding--aczhally cooked in the pudding."

"Like Tom Thumb," said Magdalen. "Yes, it was very funny. But it must
have been a very little dog, Hec, to go in the little boy's mouth?"

"Oh yes, littler than Martin's fimble. She showed me," said Hec. "It was
quite a little wee doggie. And Martin said it had got into the pudding,
'cos it had been on the edge of the milk-jug and had felled in, and so
it went down to the kitchen in the milk-jug, and the cook had put the
milk that was over, to make a pudding. The little boy was so dedfully
glad, you can't fancy. He never lostened the little dog again, Martin
said, and he said he would keep it till he was a big man. That's all my
story."

"Thank you, dear. You've told it very nicely. Hasn't he?" said Miss
King.

"_Very_ nicely," said Maudie.

But Hoodie tossed her head rather contemptuously.

"_I_ like stories that peoples make out of their own heads," she said.

"So do I," said Duke. "I've been making mine while Hec was telling his;
I didn't need to listen, for I've heard the story of the little dog
before. Now, I'll tell you mine.