about or cared for money; and Caesar--Oh! he was
something and somebody very extra indeed."

"What! did he have horns on his head?" asked Harry.

[Illustration: DR. KANE AND CAESAR IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.]

"Not a horn; but he once belonged to the good and famous Dr. Kane, the
great Arctic explorer; and Caesar had seen as many icebergs and
white bears as he wanted to, and a few over, I imagine; for Dr. Kane
gave him to his friend, the owner of Idlewild; and the good dog tells
his new master every day by an extra flourish of his tail, how happy
he is, and how much he loves to live in such a lovely place, and with
such lovely children.

"Well, as I was telling you, the dogs and little Bailey were
scampering here and there, while Miss Laura walked in the glen,
thinking how sweetly the rippling golden light came down through the
green leaves. After a while she thought it was time to return, so she
called--'Come, Gouldy, come, Caesar, come, Bailey. It is time to go
home.' Up bounded the two dogs at her bidding, but the darling little
rogue, Bailey, pretended to be very busy looking for something in the
grass. Then the dogs, seeing that _he_ did not mind, went leaping off,
tumbling over each other, pretending to bite, and growling at a great
rate. So Miss Laura walked a few steps nearer Bailey, and called
again--'Come, Gouldy, come, Caesar, come, _Bailey_.' The dogs ran to
her as before, but Bailey walked as grave as any deacon, and looking
sideways at her, with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes, and a comical
little chuckle, he said--'Miss Laura, there is no _dog_ of that name
in this place.' His face looked so full of fun and mischief, that Miss
Laura screamed out laughing, and then Bailey laughed, and was very
glad he had been so funny."

"What a funny little fellow," exclaimed the children, "to make believe
Miss Laura did not mean him when she called. I _do_ wish he could come
and play with us. He's a darling! Well, please go on Aunt Fanny."

"While we were sitting in the parlor, Bailey brought me a superb book
of engravings to look at. They were flowers. I only wish you could
have heard him telling me the long names, slowly and carefully, in
such a sweet little voice--'This is the Rho-de-den-dron,' and then
giving a quick, satisfied sigh, because he had gotten it all right.
When he showed me a picture of a splendid lily, I looked at the
beautiful flower, and then at his innocent baby-brow, and in his
unclouded eyes