l years. Then a visiting nephew, boy-wise in the ways of animals,
romping with him, purposely scampered back and forth through the
cellar, running in at one door and out at the other, so that the dog,
in the ardor of the chase, had traversed that realm of awful chill and
gloom before he realized where he was. Later on, one torrid afternoon,
I carried a bone down cellar and, sitting on a log beside it, chanted
its praises until, tempted beyond endurance, Njal came tumbling
headlong downstairs and fell upon it. For a little while longer, he
would not stay in the cellar without companionship, but at last his
dread was so entirely overcome that, in the midsummer heats, the
cellar, and especially, to our regret, the coal bin, was his favorite
resort.

But on this first night he would have none of it. We were reluctant to
use force and compromised on the bathroom. Here he obediently lay down
and bore his lot in silence till dead of night, when at last the rising
tide of desolation so overswelled his puppy heart that a sudden wail,
which would have done credit to a banshee, woke everybody in the house.

The second evening he made his own arrangements. Our academic home was
simple in its appointments,--so simple that Joy-of-Life and I often
merrily quoted to each other the comment of a calling freshman:

"When _I'm_ old, I mean to have a dear little house just like this one,
all furnished with nothing but books."

The barn-dog inspected our chambers and promptly decided that only the
best was good enough for him. This approved bower was then occupied by
the Dryad, over whose couch was appropriately spread a velvety green
cover, a foreign treasure of her own, marvelous for many-hued
embroidery. As bedtime came on, Njal disappeared and was nowhere to be
found, until the Dryad's pealing laugh brought us to her room, where a
ball of golden collie, even the tail demurely tucked in, was sleeping
desperately hard in the middle of the choice coverlet. One anxious eye
blinked at us and then shut up tighter than ever. Njal was so
determined not to be budged that the tender-hearted Dryad took his part
and pleaded against our amateur efforts at discipline.

"Poor puppy! Let him be my room-mate tonight. He's so new and scared.
He can sleep over there on the lounge under that farthest window and he
will not bother me one bit."

Njal consented to this transfer, but in the small hours homesickness
again swept his soul and he jumped up be