d all dogs with disfavour; but in those
days he had looked kindly upon Joe as a suitor for Miranda's hand and
so he had allowed her to keep the puppy. Miranda was so grateful that
she endeavoured to please her father by naming her dog after his
political idol, the great Liberal chieftain, Sir Wilfrid
Laurier--though his title was soon abbreviated to Wilfy. Sir Wilfrid
grew and flourished and waxed fat; but Miranda spoiled him absurdly and
nobody else liked him. Rilla especially hated him because of his
detestable trick of lying flat on his back and entreating you with
waving paws to tickle his sleek stomach. When she saw that Miranda's
pale eyes bore unmistakable testimony of her having cried all night,
Rilla asked her to come up to her room, knowing Miranda had a tale of
woe to tell, but she ordered Sir Wilfrid to remain below.

"Oh, can't he come, too?" said Miranda wistfully. "Poor Wilfy won't be
any bother--and I wiped his paws so carefully before I brought him in.
He is always so lonesome in a strange place without me--and very soon
he'll be--all--I'll have left--to remind me--of Joe."

Rilla yielded, and Sir Wilfrid, with his tail curled at a saucy angle
over his brindled back, trotted triumphantly up the stairs before them.

"Oh, Rilla," sobbed Miranda, when they had reached sanctuary. "I'm so
unhappy. I can't begin to tell you how unhappy I am. Truly, my heart is
breaking."

Rilla sat down on the lounge beside her. Sir Wilfrid squatted on his
haunches before them, with his impertinent pink tongue stuck out, and
listened. "What is the trouble, Miranda?"

"Joe is coming home tonight on his last leave. I had a letter from him
on Saturday--he sends my letters in care of Bob Crawford, you know,
because of father--and, oh, Rilla, he will only have four days--he has
to go away Friday morning--and I may never see him again."

"Does he still want you to marry him?" asked Rilla.

"Oh, yes. He implored me in his letter to run away and be married. But
I cannot do that, Rilla, not even for Joe. My only comfort is that I
will be able to see him for a little while tomorrow afternoon. Father
has to go to Charlottetown on business. At least we will have one good
farewell talk. But oh--afterwards--why, Rilla, I know father won't even
let me go to the station Friday morning to see Joe off."

"Why in the world don't you and Joe get married tomorrow afternoon at
home?" demanded Rilla.

Miranda swallowed a sob in such amaze