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If Sancho's abduction made a stir, one may easily imagine with what
warmth and interest he was welcomed back when his wrongs and wanderings
were known. For several days he held regular levees, that curious boys
and sympathizing girls might see and pity the changed and curtailed dog.
Sancho behaved with dignified affability, and sat upon his mat in the
coach-house pensively eying his guests, and patiently submitting to
their caresses; while Ben and Thorny took turns to tell the few tragical
facts which were not shrouded in the deepest mystery. If the interesting
sufferer could only have spoken, what thrilling adventures and
hair-breadth escapes he might have related. But, alas! he was dumb; and
the secrets of that memorable month never were revealed.

The lame paw soon healed, the dingy color slowly yielded to many
washings, the woolly coat began to knot up into little curls, a new
collar, handsomely marked, made him a respectable dog, and Sancho was
himself again. But it was evident that his sufferings were not
forgotten; his once sweet temper was a trifle soured; and, with a few
exceptions, he had lost his faith in mankind. Before, he had been the
most benevolent and hospitable of dogs; now, he eyed all strangers
suspiciously, and the sight of a shabby man made him growl and bristle
up, as if the memory of his wrongs still burned hotly within him.

Fortunately, his gratitude was stronger than his resentment, and he
never seemed to forget that he owed his life to Betty,--running to
meet her whenever she appeared, instantly obeying her commands, and
suffering no one to molest her when he walked watchfully beside her,
with her hand upon his neck, as they had walked out of the almost fatal
backyard together, faithful friends for ever.

Miss Celia called them little Una and her lion, and read the pretty
story to the children when they wondered what she meant. Ben, with great
pains, taught the dog to spell "Betty," and surprised her with a display
of this new accomplishment, which gratified her so much that she was
never tired of seeing Sanch paw the five red letters into place, then
come and lay his nose in her hand, as if he added, "That's the name of
my dear mistress."

Of course Bab was glad to have everything pleasant and friendly again;
but in a little dark corner of her heart there was a drop of envy, and a
desperate desire to do something which would make every one in her small
world like and praise her as t