they had a scuffle. The other boys paid no
attention to them, but went on looking at me. One of them, a little boy
with eyes like Miss Laura's, said, "What did Cousin Harry say the dog's
name was?"

"Joe," answered another boy. "The little chap that carried him home told
him."

"We might call him 'Ugly Joe' then," said a lad with a round, fat face,
and laughing eyes. I wondered very much who this boy was, and, later on,
I found out that he was another of Miss Laura's brothers, and his name
was Ned. There seemed to be no end to the Morris boys.

"I don't think Laura would like that," said Jack Morris, suddenly coming
up behind him. He was very hot, and was breathing fast, but his manner
was as cool as if he had never left the group about me. He had beaten
Tom, who was sitting on a box, ruefully surveying a hole in his jacket.
"You see," he went on, gaspingly, "if you call him 'Ugly Joe,' her
ladyship will say that you are wounding the dear dog's feelings.
'Beautiful Joe,' would be more to her liking."

A shout went up from the boys. I didn't wonder that they laughed.
Plain-looking I naturally was; but I must have been hideous in those
bandages.

"'Beautiful Joe,' then let it be!" they cried, "Let us go and tell
mother, and ask her to give us something for our beauty to eat."

They all trooped out of the stable, and I was very sorry, for when they
were with me, I did not mind so much the tingling in my ears, and the
terrible pain in my back. They soon brought me some nice food, but I
could not touch it, so they went away to their play, and I lay in the
box they put me in, trembling with pain, and wishing that the pretty
young lady was there, to stroke me with her gentle fingers.

By-and-by it got dark. The boys finished their play, and went into the
house, and I saw lights twinkling in the windows. I felt lonely and
miserable in this strange place. I would not have gone back to Jenkins'
for the world, still it was the only home I had known, and though I felt
that I should be happy here, I had not yet gotten used to the change.
Then the pain all through my body was dreadful. My head seemed to be on
fire, and there were sharp, darting pains up and down my backbone. I
did not dare to howl, lest I should make the big dog, Jim, angry. He was
sleeping in a kennel, out in the yard.

The stable was very quiet. Up in the loft above, some rabbits that I had
heard running about had now gone to sleep. The guinea pig was nes