ant. Patricia might give her
foundling a good meal, but keep him she _could not_.

Whereupon, Patricia, having given the wanderer what was in reality
several meals condensed into one, had retired with him to think things
over.

"It really seems as if you'd been meant for me," she told him now;
"I found you. I can't see why Aunt Julia won't look at things in a
proper light. I'm afraid she hurt your feelings. Aunt Julia generally
means pretty well, but she's apt to speak out sort of quick. We Kirbys
mostly do. I wonder what your name is?"

The dog stretched comfortably out in the warm grass, quite as happy and
contented as if he had been everything he wasn't, sat up suddenly, with
a short little bark, as if trying to give the desired information.

Rolling over, Patricia, her chin in her hands, surveyed him carefully.
"You aren't very handsome just now; but then, I know lots of people who
aren't very good looking. I don't see why that saying Aunt Julia is so
fond of--about 'Handsome is as handsome does'--shouldn't apply to dogs
as well as people. All the same, you are a very mixed numbery sort of
a dog: you've got one and three-quarters ears, three and one-half
legs,--at least you don't use that front paw very much,--and half a
tail; and your hair is rather--patchy. But inside, I'm sure you're all
right. And you have _beautiful_ eyes; _they're_ all there, too."

The dog blinked back at her soberly, wagging his abbreviated tail in
apologetic fashion.

"You've simply got to have a home," Patricia went on; "and it's up to me
to find you one. But I think you'll have to have a bath first, and your
paw bandaged."

Jumping up, Patricia darted back to the house, and around to the side
door, leading to her father's office. Presently, she reappeared with a
cake of antiseptic soap, a box of salve, a roll of bandage, a pair of
scissors, and a bath-towel; with these gathered up in the skirt of her
frock she led the way down to the brook, followed by a most unsuspecting
small dog.

Ten minutes later that same small dog--decidedly sadder and wetter, if
not wiser--lay shivering on the sunny bank, while Patricia rubbed him
vigorously with one of her aunt's largest bath-towels.

Then the cut paw was salved and bandaged, and the most hopelessly
tangled knots of curls cut away. After which, Patricia, sitting back on
heels, studied her charge approvingly.

"If Aunt Julia could see you _now_! Why didn't I do all this first?
But--we