of sugar from his pocket and balanced it on the creature's
nose, he tossed it in the air, and, catching it neatly, swallowed it in a
trice.

Jewel was giving subdued squeals of delight, and everybody was laughing
with pleasure; for the decorative creature appeared to enjoy his own
tricks.

The man looked proudly around upon the company.

"Well," said Mr. Evringham to Jewel, "he is a dog of high degree, like
Gabriel's, isn't he? But he's such a big fellow I think the organ-grinder
wouldn't have such an easy time with _him_."

At the broker's voice, the dog walked up to him and wagged his feathery
tail. Jewel's eager hands went out to touch him, but Mr. Evringham held her
back.

"He's a friendly fellow," he went on; then continued to the man, "Would you
like to sell him?"

The question set the little girl's heart to beating fast.

"I would, first rate," replied the man, grinning, "but the trouble is I've
sold him once. I'm taking him to his owner now."

"That's a handsome collar you have on him."

"Oh, yes, it's a good one all right," returned the man. "The dog is for a
surprise present. The lady I'm taking him to is going to know him by his
name."

"Let's have a look at it, Jewel," said Mr. Evringham, and he took hold of
the silver collar, a familiarity which seemed rather to please the golden
dog, who began wagging his tail again, as he looked at Mr. Evringham
trustingly.

Jewel bent over eagerly. A single name was engraved clearly on the smooth
plate.

"Topaz!" she cried. "His name is Topaz! Grandpa, mother, the golden dog's
name is Topaz!"

Mrs. Evringham held up both hands in amazement, while Harry frowned
incredulously.

"Did you ever hear of anything so wonderful, grandpa? How _can_ the lady
know him by his name so well as we do?" The child was quite breathless.

"What? Do _you_ know the name?" asked the man. "Supposing I'd hit on the
right place already. Just take a look under his throat. The owner's name is
there."

Jewel fell on her knees, and while Mr. Evringham kept his hand on the dog's
muzzle, she pushed aside the silky white fur.

"Evringham. Bel-Air Park, New Jersey," was what she read, engraved on the
silver.

She sat still for a minute, overcome, while a procession of ideas crowded
after each other through the flaxen head. It was her birthday; grandpa
couldn't get the boat under the tablecloth. This beautiful dog--this
impossibly beautiful dog, was a surprise present. He was for