dog should be
advertised for in the newspaper. You know of course what I mean by "near
the station.")

To my surprise papa burst out laughing.

"You little goose," he said, holding out the paper. "There, look for
yourself;" and I saw that the name of the paper was _The Wildmoor
Gazette_. I was quite puzzled, and I suppose my face showed it.

"Local," said papa, "only means connected with the place--with any
place. I just meant that I would get the newspaper of this place to see
if any such dog as Bruno was advertised for. But I don't see anything of
the kind. I think I must put in an advertisement of having found him."

"Oh, papa, you surely won't!" Persis burst out.

Papa turned upon her with a sort of sharpness we did mind this time, for
we saw he was quite in earnest.

"My dear child," he said, "what are you thinking of? It would not be
honest not to try to restore the dog to those he belongs to. I have
already told all the neighbours about him."

Persis said no more, but she grew very red indeed. I think I did too,
but I'm not quite sure, and I couldn't ask Persis afterwards, for we had
fixed in our minds we wouldn't speak of that thing. I turned my face
away, however, for fear of papa seeing it. He would have thought there
was something very queer the matter if he had seen we were both so red.

That afternoon he went out without saying where he was going, but we
both felt quite sure he had gone about putting that horrid
advertisement in the paper. And even without that, we knew that if he
went telling about Bruno to everybody he'd be _sure_ to be claimed. The
country's not like town, you see. Everybody knows everybody else's
affairs in the country.

We took Bruno out, feeling that we only loved him the more for not
knowing how soon he might be taken from us. We both hugged him and cried
over him that afternoon, and the dear fellow seemed to understand. He
looked up in our faces with such _very_ "doggy" eyes.

And after that, there never, for some days, came a knock at the door, or
the sound of a strange voice in the kitchen, without our trembling. And
we never came in from a walk with Bruno without getting cold all over at
the thought that perhaps some one might be waiting for him.

But nothing of the sort did happen. And time went on, till it grew to be
nearly three weeks that our dear dog had been with us.

One evening papa came to us in the yard when we were saying good-night
to Bruno.

"I suppo