at must be eaten." Graham and Jack
accepted the invitation as a matter of course, and Lucy and Jerry
yielded, after considerable insistence on Peggy's part. And on the faces
which surrounded the dinner-table, lengthened for the occasion by an
extra leaf, there was little to call to mind the black dream of the
night.

It was an unusual supper in many ways. There were only half a dozen ears
of corn, and the lima beans served out a teaspoonful to a plate. It was
understood that whoever preferred sardines to corned beef might have his
choice, but that it was a breach of etiquette to take both. However,
since several varieties of jellies and preserves graced the table, and
there was an abundance of Mrs. Cole's delicious bread, both white and
brown, there was no danger that any one would rise from the meal with
his hunger unsatisfied.

Peggy was busy planning while she ate. "Oh, dear, what in the world am I
going to do with Hobo? I won't leave him without a home, that's sure.
And I don't know what Taffy'll say to me if I bring back another dog."

"I'll take him off your hands," said Jack Rynson.

Peggy leaned toward him with shining eyes. "Really? And would you like
him? For I don't want you to take him just to oblige me."

Jack made haste to defend himself against such a charge. His home, it
seemed, was on the outskirts of the city, and his mother sometimes
complained that it was lonely, and would be glad, Jack was sure, of a
good watch-dog. "And I'll get Graham to give him a certificate on that
score," concluded Jack, with a meaning smile in the direction of his
friend, who was always easily teased by references to the time when Hobo
had rushed to the defence of Graham's sister against Graham himself.

"Oh, that's such a load off my mind," Peggy declared. "He can go with
you to-morrow, can't he? And now there's one thing more, and that's his
name."

"Yes?" Jack looked a little puzzled.

"I named him myself, and I've been ashamed of it ever since. For he
never was a tramp dog, really. He wanted a home all the time, and people
of his own to love and protect and be faithful to. And, if you don't
mind, before he goes I'd like to change his name to Hero."

The emphasis on the last word roused Hobo, who was sleeping in the next
room. Perhaps his ear was not sufficiently trained to the niceties of
the English language to distinguish between this name and the other by
which he had been addressed all summer. Be that as it