an his head."

"I do, decidedly," laughed Gerald, as De Forest raised her deftly to the
saddle and arranged bridle and girths to her liking, turning to tighten
his own before mounting, and kicking away a small dog that had run up to
sniff at his heels.

"What did you bring along this ugly little beast of yours for, Jim? I
abhor curs."

"Tain't none of mine, Mister," said the stable-boy, grinning. "It's
one of them street dogs that ain't nobody's." And he in his turn gave
a push to the puppy, while Gerald leaned down and hit at it lightly
with her whip.

"Get away, my friend. There isn't room both for you and for us here," she
said, turning her horse toward it playfully as the little creature slunk
aside. In another instant her horse kicked violently, there was a single
sharp yelp, and the dog lay motionless in the road.

"Hi!" exclaimed Jim, quite in accents of admiration, as he ran up and
bent over the poor thing. "That was a good un! Right on the head! He
won't trouble any other genelman again, I'm thinking."

"What!" cried Gerald, sharply. "You don't mean the dog is dead?"

"Don't I?" said the boy, moving a little aside so that she should see.
"That was a neat un and no mistake."

Gerald looked down with a cry of horror; then suddenly sprang from her
horse and caught up the poor little limp animal in her arms.

"Take away the horse," she said to the boy, imperiously. "I shall not
ride to-day."

"But, Miss Vernor!" expostulated De Forest, "for heaven's sake don't
take it so to heart. It's unfortunate, of course, but no one is to blame.
Do put the thing down. It's dead. You can't do any thing more for it."

"I know it," said Gerald. "I did all I could; I killed him. But you'll
have to excuse me, Mr. De Forest, I can't ride."

De Forest caught her by the arm impatiently, as she turned from him.
"What nonsense, Miss Vernor! What _is_ the good of playing tragedy queen
over a dead dog? I'll have him buried in a silver coffin if you like and
raise a memorial to his inestimable virtues, but in the name of all that
is sensible, do get on the horse again and let us have our ride."

"Not to-day," replied Gerald. "I could not. It is impossible." She
looked up at him, holding the little victim pressed close in her arms,
utterly regardless of its rough and grimy coat. Her eyes were swimming
with tears.

"As you decide, of course," said De Forest, sulkily, releasing her, and
tossing his bridle to the boy. "Here you