is not to lay a finger on that dog!" he said. "He
never killed a sheep of mine--he couldn't! And if he did I don't care!
He's welcome to kill them all, if nothing but mutton'll serve his
turn."

Curtis walked home with a glad heart. Mr. Locksley heard old Paul's
message with a smile. He, too, had been touched by Don's splendid
feat.

"Well, Curtis, I'm very glad that it has turned old Paul in his
favour. But we must shut Don up for a week or so, no matter how hard
he takes it. You can see that for yourself. After all, he might have
worried the sheep. And, anyway, he must be broken of his intimacy with
Ventnor's dog."

Curtis acknowledged the justice of this and poor Don was tied up
again. His captivity was not long, however, for Ventnor's dog was soon
shot. When Don was released, Curtis had an anxious time for a week or
two. But no more sheep were worried, and Don's innocence was
triumphantly established. As for old Paul Stockton, it seemed as if
he could not do enough for Curtis and Don. His ancient grudge against
the Locksleys was completely forgotten, and from that date he was a
firm friend of Curtis. In regard to Don, old Paul would say:

"Why, there never was such a dog before, sir, never! He just talks
with his eyes, that dog does. And if you'd just 'a' seen him swimming
out to that schooner! Bones? Yes, sir! Every time that dog comes here
he's to get the best bones we've got for him--and more'n bones, too.
That dog's a hero, sir, that's what he is!"

Miss Madeline's Proposal

"Auntie, I have something to tell you," said Lina, with a blush that
made her look more than ever like one of the climbing roses that
nodded about the windows of the "old Churchill place," as it was
always called in Lower Wentworth.

Miss Madeline, sitting in the low rocker by the parlour window, seemed
like the presiding genius of the place. Everything about her matched
her sweet old-fashionedness, from the crown of her soft brown hair,
dressed in the style of her long ago girlhood, to the toes of her
daintily slippered feet. Outside of the old Churchill place, in the
busy streets of the up-to-date little town, Miss Madeline might have
seemed out of harmony with her surroundings. But here, in this dim
room, faintly scented with whiffs from the rose garden outside, she
was like a note in some sweet, perfect melody of old time.

Lina, sitting on a little stool at Miss Madeline's feet with her curly
head in her aunt's lap,