at
the door of her room, saying, "I know, I know! a _drinking fountain_,
father!"

At first Dr. Fortescue could not understand what she meant, but when she
explained he thought it was a very good idea.

Some months later when Ada had a bad cold and was up in her room once
more, it amused her to watch her drinking fountain, which was in the
opposite wall, and see all the people who drank at it, and she was very
glad when one day she recognized the little boy who had first put the
idea of a drinking fountain into her head. He had a roll in his hand,
and wore a nice tidy suit of clothes; and when Ada sent the maid to
inquire after him she heard that he was on the way to see his mother
with a quarter's wages in his pocket, for he had got a good place and
meant to do all he could to keep it.

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ONLY AN OLD COAT.

A TRUE STORY OF A FAITHFUL DOG.

"Only an old coat! That's what it is surely, but that old coat cost me a
good friend, it did. Poor old Tinker was worth more than a dozen coats."
So said Eli Watton, as he put the old coat over his shoulders, and
settled himself in his donkey-cart with a man by his side who had asked
for a lift.

"Who was poor old Tinker?" asked the stranger.

"My dog," answered Eli, "and a better one never followed any man. Poor
fellow! though he weren't much to look at. Well, I'll tell you how it
was I lost him, poor chap. Every Friday I have to drive into town to
fetch the clothes for my wife to wash, and I often had to go in again on
a Monday with clean ones. Tinker, poor fellow, used to go with me most
times, but I never gave much heed to him. He'd always follow without a
word. He was an ugly brute, people used to say--a sort of lurcher, and
he never got much petting from any one.

"Well, one day I drove as usual, and I had this old coat over the basket
of clothes. When I got to one house I suppose I pitched the old coat
out, but I never heeded it; and I never noticed whether Tinker was with
me or not. That night we missed Tinker; and my wife couldn't think what
I'd done with the old coat, and I couldn't remember anything about it.

"On Monday I had to go to that same house, and there I found my poor old
Tinker dead; they'd had him shot. I _was_ in a way about it, I can tell
you. It was in this way, you see. This old coat was in a doorway, where
I suppose I threw it when I was taking down the basket. Old Tinker