ing shine to that yellow coat of his.
It is astonishing what a splendid fellow the barn-puppy has grown to
be."

In came Jane with the cream, blushing for her delay, but lingering to
see what reception would be given the collie who walked politely a step
or two behind.

Groomed till he shone, his new leather collar adorned with a flaring
orange-satin bow, Njal entered with the quiet stateliness of one to
drawing-rooms born, widely waving his tail in salutation to the entire
company. But it was to the Lady of Cedar Hill that he went and against
her side that he pressed close, while his questioning eyes passed from
face to face, for he seemed already aware of an impending change in his
fortunes.

The phaeton was brought to the door. Joy-of-Life and I took our places,
and the Lady of Cedar Hill, who gave her puppies away right royally,
passed in a new leash and complete box of brushes. Then the coachman
lifted Njal, an armful of sprawling legs, and deposited him at our
feet. The collie sat upright, making no effort to escape. But as his
mistress perched on the carriage step to give him a good-bye hug, his
eyes looked back into hers so wistfully, and yet so trustfully, that
one of the maids in the background was heard to sniff.

"Be a good doggie," the beloved voice adjured him, "and don't give your
new ladies any trouble on the long drive."

If he promised, he certainly kept his word. All the way he sat quietly
where he had been put, erect and alert, watching the road and bestowing
a very special regard on every dog and cat we passed. When we reached
our modest home, he jumped out at our bidding, entered the open door
and proceeded steadily from room to room, looking long out of each
window as if hoping to find a familiar view. We had been warned that
strange surroundings would probably affect his appetite, but Njal was
far too sensible a collie to disdain a good dinner. He took to his
puppy-biscuit and gravy with such a relish that, in an incredibly short
period, the empty dish was dancing on the gravel under the hopeful
insistence of his tongue. Homesickness, however, came on with the dusk.
He gazed longingly from the piazza down the road, and when we attempted
to introduce him to the cellar and his waiting box of plentiful clean
straw, he resisted in a sudden agony of fright.

Njal had known nothing of cellars, and the terror with which that
unnatural, lonesome hollow under ground affected him lasted for two
ful