bore very little resemblance to the Patricia Kirby
Miss Jane was accustomed to see in church on Sunday, or sometimes
driving about with Dr. Kirby.

"Whatever are you doing alone so far from home, Patricia?" Miss Susan
asked, coming up. The cat had retired to the shelter of a tall tree,
from a branch of which she glared down on her pursuer, who lay hot and
panting on the ground below.

Patricia pointed to the dog. "Why, I came on purpose to bring you
him--for a present, you know."

Miss Jane gasped.

"He's a very nice dog," Patricia went on. "I'd love to keep him for
myself; only Aunt Julia--Aunt Julia seemed to think one dog was enough.
I don't think Aunt Julia is particularly--enthusiastic, about dogs. You
would like him, wouldn't you?"

Not dust, heat, nor weariness could hide the persuasive charm of
Patricia's quick upward smile.

Before that smile Miss Jane, who was very soft-hearted, wavered; but
Miss Susan shook her head resolutely. "Augusta would never hear of it
for one moment!"

"Is Augusta your cook?" Patricia asked. Cooks were that way sometimes;
even Sarah had her moments of revolt--so far as Patricia was concerned.

"Augusta is our cat," Miss Jane explained. She felt grateful to Susan,
and sorry for Patricia.

Patricia sighed; she had recognized the finality in Miss Susan's tone.
"Do you know of any one who would like a dog," she asked, "a very nice
dog?"

"You might try the Millers'," Miss Jane suggested.

"I--I don't believe Mrs. Miller would care for him," Patricia answered,
hurriedly. She turned to go. "Why, where is he?"

"Perhaps he's waiting outside in the road for you." Miss Susan was not
ordinarily so inhospitable, but the minister was coming to supper that
evening; and, like Martha of old, Miss Susan was burdened with many
cares.

Patricia sighed again; the road outside the low white fence seemed
suddenly very long and sunny. She was tired and discouraged; above all,
she was hungry.

"Before you go, Patricia," Miss Jane said, kindly, "come round to the
kitchen and have a glass of cool milk and a cookie."

The kitchen door had been left open in the excited rush of a few moments
before. As the three neared it now, Miss Susan darted forward, with very
much the same shriek of horrified dismay as Mrs. Miller had uttered not
long since.

Mounted on a chair, his feet firmly planted on the kitchen-table was
a small black dog, just finishing the contents of a large glass dish
standi