came I tied him to a tree and we ran into the log house, but he broke
away the next minute and took to his heels and ran as fast as his legs
could carry him. Barney's an awful fraud, Mrs. Gerald."

But Mrs. Gerald had no time just then to give heed to Barney's
misdoings. Seizing a wrap from the hall, she ordered Rudolph into the
house and to bed, as quickly as he could be gotten there, sent Philip
to Rudolph's Mother with the word that the children were safe, and then
started off in the wagonette to bring Mabel and Tattine home.

"Mamma," said Tattine, snuggling her wet little self close to her
Mother's side in the carriage, "Rudolph was just splendid, the way he
hauled Barney and us and the cart out of the water, but Mamma, I am done
with Barney now too. He's not to be trusted either."

Mrs. Gerald thought of two or three things that might be urged in
Barney's favor, but it did not seem kind even to attempt to reason with
two such tired and soaking little specimens, so she only said, "Well,
Barney can never again be trusted in the ford, that's one sure thing."

"No, indeed," said Mabel warmly; "I would not give fifty cents for him."

"You can have him for nothing," said Tattine, with a wan little smile;
"after this he can never be trusted in anything."

CHAPTER VI. "IT IS THEIR NATURE TO."

Tattine was getting on beautifully with her attempt to use Grandma
Luty's name at the proper time, and in the proper place, and she
was getting on beautifully with grandma herself as well. She loved
everything about her, and wished it need not be so very long till she
could be a grandma herself, have white hair and wear snowy caps atop
of it, and kerchiefs around her neck, and use gold eye-glasses and
a knitting-basket. Grandma Luty, you see, was one of the dear,
old-fashioned grandmothers. There are not many of them nowadays. Most of
them seem to like to dress so you cannot tell a grandmother from just an
ordinary everyday mother. If you have a grandmother--a nice old one, I
mean--see if you cannot get her into the cap and kerchief, and then show
her how lovely she looks in them. But what I was going to tell you was
that Grandma Luty's visit was all a joy to Tattine, and so when, just at
daylight one morning, the setter puppies in their kennel at the back of
the house commenced a prodigious barking, Tattine's first thought was
for Grandma.

"It's a perfect shame to have them wake her up," she said to herself,
"and I k