ver. They both jumped at my old Dobbin's head, barking all
Hallelujah."

"O yes, I've seen two runaway dogs. Shepherds, white and fawn. They
were chasing an express team down by Eliot Oak. The driver was standing
up and whipping out at them for all he was worth."

Presently we came on their fresh tracks in the snow, tracks of running
feet always side by side, until at last we overtook the truants. There
they were, barking in duet, hoarse but happy, trying to scramble up an
icy telephone pole after a spitting cat. They bounded to greet us and
followed the sleigh home like lambs. The Sister, secretly condemning
Sigurd as the dangerous misleader of her angel Laddie, assured them
firmly that they were _never_ to play together again.

Sigurd still had so much frolic in him that, when we had arrived at our
own door, he coaxed me to stay outside and throw sticks for him from
the piazza into the drifts. But soon I noticed red touches on the snow
and, bringing him in, found that his feet were ice-cut and bleeding. I
told him sternly that such were his just deserts and he rolled over on
his back, holding up his paws to be healed. While I was anointing them
with vaseline, a vain remedy because of the avidity with which Sigurd
licked it off, I discovered that he had lost, in his wild whirl, the
ornamental blue-bead collar, wrought for him by a student devotee at
the cost of many patient hours. When I had done what he would let me
for his feet and he had curled up cosily in his basket, I solemnly set
about my duty of rebuking him, but the youngster was too tired for
rhetoric. With an apologetic grunt, he instantly fell fast asleep.
Being inwardly persuaded that Laddie was chiefly to blame, I left my
misguided innocent to his repose.

The next afternoon he limped demurely down the hill and, in about two
minutes, was on The Orchard porch, exchanging vociferous greetings with
Laddie, but for once his effrontery failed of its effect. Steeling
their hearts, the Sisters refused to let the outside collie in or the
inside collie out. Sigurd, always most dignified when his feelings were
hurt, rose against one of the drawing-room windows, took a long look at
the sofa and vanished into the early winter twilight, not to be seen
again by our anxious eyes for thirty-six hours. It was just on the
silver edge of the third day that a wistful _woof_ on our porch sent
four hastily slippered feet skurrying to the door. Such a famished,
unkempt, exh