Tattine was right. "Now I'll tell you what I am going to do," he said;
"I can make just a little hole, large enough for a puppy to get through,
without taking out a foundation-stone, and I'm going to make it here,
near where the cry seems to come from. Then I am going to tie Betsy to
this pillar of the porch, and I believe she'll have sense enough to
try and coax the little fellow out, and if the is such an enterprising
little chap as you think he'll have sense enough to come out."

It seemed a good plan. Betsy was brought, and Tattine sat down to listen
and watch. Betsy, hearing the little cries, began at once to coax,
giving little sharp barks at regular intervals, and trying to make the
hole larger with her paws.

Tattine's ears, which were dear little shells of ears to look at, and
very sharp little ears to hear with, thought the cries sounded a little
nearer, and now a little nearer; then she was sure of it, and Betsy and
she, both growing more excited every minute, kept pushing each other
away from the hole the better to look into it, until at last two little
beads of eyes glared out at them, and then it was an easy thing for
Tattine to reach in and draw out the prettiest puppy of all.

"Why didn't you tell us there were five, Betsy, and save us all this
extra trouble?" and Tattine hurried away to deposit number five in the
kennel; but Betsy looked up with the most reproachful look imaginable
as though to say, "How much talking could you do if you had to do it all
with your eyes and a tail?"

CHAPTER IV. MORE TROUBLES

Patrick Kirk was raking the gravel on the road into pretty criss-cross
patterns, and Tattine was pretending to help him with her own garden
rake. Patrick was one of Tattine's best friends and she loved to work
with him and to talk to him. Patrick was a fine old Irishman, there was
no doubt whatever about that, faithful and conscientious to the last
degree. Every morning he would drive over in his old buggy from his
little farm in the Raritan Valley, in abundant time to begin work on
the minute of seven, and not until the minute of six would he lay aside
spade or hoe and turn his steps towards his old horse tied under the
tree, behind the barn. But the most attractive thing about Patrick was
his genial kindly smile, a smile that said as plainly as words, that he
had found life very comfortable and pleasant, and that he was still more
than content with it notwithstanding that his back was bowe