dark corner by the stairs. "Have you any wild beasts in here?"

"No, that's only my dog, Grit, uncle. He'll not hurt anyone."

"A dog? In the house?" exclaimed Mr. Larabee. "Why, he might chew a hole
in the carpet. Besides, I can't bear dogs. Get out, you brute!" he
exclaimed, aiming a kick at Grit, who walked toward Dick.

The bulldog, with an ugly growl, crouched for a leap at Mr. Larabee.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE FRESH-AIR YOUNGSTERS.

"Hold him back! Hold him! Let me hide! He'll bite me!" exclaimed Uncle
Ezra, as he saw Grit's wicked-looking teeth.

"Grit!" spoke Dick, softly, and in a reproving voice. "This is my Uncle
Ezra," he went on. "Don't you know any better than that?"

Instantly Grit's manner changed. He showed that he was sorry for the
mistake he had made of growling at one of the family visitors. He even
approached Uncle Ezra as if to make friends, but Mr. Larabee shrunk
away.

"I can't bear dogs," he said.

Grit acted as if he understood, for he turned away. Nor did he seem to
miss a caress from Mr. Larabee. Grit was a wise dog, and he well knew
that the man disliked him.

"If you keep that dog in the house I'm afraid I can't stay, Nephew
Richard," Dick's uncle went on. "I wouldn't sleep a wink thinking of
him."

"Gibbs, take Grit to the stable," said Dick to the butler, with a little
sigh, and the dog, with a somewhat reproachful look at his master,
allowed himself to be led away. Nor was he permitted to come into the
house during Uncle Ezra's visit, which quarantine he seemed to resent,
for he always growled menacingly whenever Mr. Larabee came near him out
doors. But this was not often, as Dick's uncle was very much afraid of
Grit.

Mr. Hamilton soon came home, and warmly greeted his wife's brother.

"I'm glad to see you," said the millionaire. "How would you like to take
a run to Hazelton this evening to the theatre? They have a good summer
company playing there and we can make a quick trip in Dick's runabout."

"I never go to theatres," said Mr. Larabee, in severe tones. "It's
sinful, and a wicked waste of money. If there is a good instructive
lecture in the village I would much rather go to that."

"I'm afraid there isn't," replied Mr. Hamilton, trying not to smile, for
he respected his brother-in-law's scruples. "But we can spend the
evening pleasantly at home--talking."

"Pleasantly!" repeated Dick to himself, with a sort of groan.
"Pleasantly, with Uncle Ezra? Never!"

A