th something to a
fancier!"

"Sell Derry!" the idea, though she hated it, had taken possession of
Ingred's brain. He was the only thing she had that was of marketable
value. To part with the poor little fellow would be like selling her
birthright, but, after all, brothers came first, and how could
Athelstane study without books? Something Mother had said the other day
clamored in her memory. "If we've lost our fortune we've got our family
intact, and we must stick tight together, and be ready to make
sacrifices for one another." Ingred had quite made up her mind. She put
on her hat, took Derry from his cozy place by the kitchen fire, kissed
his nose, and, carrying him in her arms, walked to the next-door house,
rang the bell, and asked to see Mr. Hardcastle.

She found the old gentleman in a cozy dining-room, seated by a cheery
fire, and reading the evening paper. He looked a little astonished when
she was ushered in, but received her politely, as if it was quite a
matter of course for a young lady, hugging a dog, to pay him an
afternoon visit.

Ingred put Derry down on the hearth rug, took the arm-chair that was
offered her, and with a beating heart and a very high color plunged into
business, and inquired if it were possible to find a fancier who wished
to buy a prize fox terrier.

"I've his pedigree here," she finished, "and he really is a nice little
dog. If you know of anybody, I'd be so glad if you would tell me
please!"

Mr. Hardcastle, evidently much electrified, knitted his bushy eyebrows
in thought, and pursed his mouth into a button.

"There was a vet. in Grovesbury who told me a while ago that he wanted
one, but I saw him yesterday, and he said he had just bought one, so
that's no good! You might try the advertisements in _The Bazaar_. He
looks a bright little chap. Why are you in such a panic to get rid of
him? Been killing chickens?"

"No," said Ingred, turning pinker still; "it isn't that--I don't want to
sell him, of course--only--only----"

And then to her extreme annoyance, her brimming eyes overflowed, and she
burst into stifled sobs.

The old gentleman shot his lips in and out in mingled consternation and
sympathy.

"There! There! There!" he exclaimed. "Don't cry! For goodness' sake,
don't cry! Tell me, whatever's the matter?"

It was, of course, a most unorthodox thing for Ingred to blurt out
family affairs, and Father and Mother would have been justly indignant
had they known, but s