yes, insisting on
shaking paws and being forgiven over and over again.

A most affectionate little fellow he was, and would sit still at my
knee by the hour so long as he was occasionally patted and addressed by
what he instantly recognized as a pet name,--Opals, or Blessed
Buttercup, or Honey of Hybla, or Sulphur of my Soul. Epithets failing,
he would touch my foot at intervals with a reminding paw. Then,
absorbed in my work, I would absent-mindedly, on the edges of my
consciousness, conjure up more titles for him,--Yellowboy, Crocus,
Sunflower, Topaz, Mustard, Nugget, Starshine, his appreciative tail
thumping the floor at every one. He wanted to be good and was aided by
a happy disposition that, when one line of activity was cut off, found
prompt solace in another. After a few trials had convinced him that
bones, though polished in his most masterly manner and disposed behind
doors and under sofa pillows with engaging modesty, were not acceptable
ornaments of the house, he so rejoiced in the new-found art of burying
them in the earth that, for a time, all his dainties went the same way,
and the gardener's hoe would turn up petrified pieces of sponge cake
and gingerbread at which Sigurd would sniff in embarrassed
reminiscence.

Day by day the puppy was learning not only the ways of the house, but
what he considered a proper demeanor toward our variety of callers. He
took up the domestic routine almost at once and developed such an exact
sense of time that we used to call him our four-o'clock. At this merry
hour we would drop pens, shut books and take Sigurd to walk,--a duty
that he by no means allowed us to forget. At the exact moment his
_Woof, Woof_ rang out like a bell into "the still air of delightful
studies" and upon his protesting playmates Sigurd would burst like a
thunderbolt, catching at our dresses and literally dragging us away
from our desks. At mealtimes, too, with inexorable punctuality he
herded the family to the dining room. But most of the day he was doing
sentry duty on the doorsteps, incidentally offering his comment on
every happening of the road and neighborhood. Tramps he abominated and,
not content with driving them from our own premises, roared them away
from every back door on the hill. His prejudice had to do, apparently,
less with their looks and even their smell than with something stealthy
and furtive in their approach. Skulking he abhorred. On one occasion he
brought pink confusion to t