ed before him.

"You look happy," she said, with a faint smile.

"Oh, I am," he said, with a sudden flush and a start; for now the dog
was off his mind, it had instantly swung back to Ida.

"It's the reward of a generous action," she said, and again, the
mocking note was absent from her voice.

Stafford laughed.

"That's putting it rather high," he said.

They sat on in silence: Stafford thinking of Ida, Maude looking down at
the sleeping dog, and thinking that only a few minutes ago it had been
lying in the bosom of the man who sat beside her: the man whom she had
backed herself to fool; but for whom a strange sensation of
admiration--and was it a subtle fear?--was stirring within her.

"By George! we must be going!" he said, suddenly.

When they got to the boat he proposed to roll the terrier in his coat,
but Maude shook her head.

"I'll nurse it going home," she said.

"You will? That's very good of you!" he said, quite gratefully.

"He's a lucky little beggar!" he remarked, after awhile, as he looked
at the black little morsel curled up on the pretty dress. "Supposing he
isn't claimed, would you care to have him, Miss Falconer?"

She looked down at the dog.

"Thank you," she said. "But what shall I give you in return. It's
unlucky to give an animal without some consideration."

"Oh, give me another song," he replied. "There is nobody about."

She opened her lips, then checked herself.

"No, I can't sing again," she said, in a low voice.

"Oh, all right. It isn't good for you to sing too much in the open air.
I'll wait till this evening, if you'll be good enough to sing for us
then."

They landed and walked up to the house. As they reached the bend
leading to the entrance path, she stopped and held out the dog, which
had been staring at Stafford and whining at intervals.

"Take it, please. It is fretting for you, and I'd rather not keep it."

"Really?" he said, and she saw his face brighten suddenly. "All right,
if you'd rather. Come here, little man! What's your name, I wonder?
What shall we call him while we've got him?"

"Call him 'Tiny;' he's small enough," she said, with a shrug of her
shoulders.

"Tiny it is!" he assented, brightly. "He'll answer to it in a day or
two, you'll see. I hope you haven't quite spoilt your dress, Miss
Falconer, and won't regret your row!"

She looked at her dress, but there was a sudden significance in her
slow, lingering response.

"I--don't--know!"