tling
in the corner of his box, and the cat and the tame rat had scampered
into the house long ago.

At last I could bear the pain no longer. I sat up in my box and looked
about me. I felt as if I was going to die, and, though I was very weak,
there was something inside me that made me feel as if I wanted to crawl
away somewhere out of sight. I slunk out into the yard, and along the
stable wall, where there was a thick clump of raspberry bushes. I crept
in among them and lay down in the damp earth. I tried to scratch off my
bandages, but they were fastened on too firmly, and I could not do it.
I thought about my poor mother, and wished she was here to lick my sore
ears. Though she was so unhappy herself, she never wanted to see me
suffer. If I had not disobeyed her, I would not now be suffering so much
pain. She had told me again and again not to snap at Jenkins, for it
made him worse.

In the midst of my trouble I heard a soft voice calling, "Joe! Joe!" It
was Miss Laura's voice, but I felt as if there were weights on my paws,
and I could not go to her.

"Joe! Joe!" she said, again. She was going up the walk to the stable,
holding up a lighted lamp in her hand. She had on a white dress, and I
watched her till she disappeared in the stable. She did not stay long in
there. She came out and stood on the gravel. "Joe, Joe, Beautiful Joe,
where are you? You are hiding somewhere, but I shall find you." Then she
came right to the spot where I was. "Poor doggie," she said, stooping
down and patting me. "Are you very miserable, and did you crawl away to
die? I have had dogs do that before, but I am not going to let you die,
Joe." And she set her lamp on the ground, and took me in her arms.

I was very thin then, not nearly so fat as I am now, still I was quite
an armful for her. But she did not seem to find me heavy. She took me
right into the house, through the back door, and down a long flight of
steps, across a hall, and into a snug kitchen.

"For the land sakes, Miss Laura," said a woman who was bending over a
stove, "what have you got there?"

"A poor sick dog, Mary," said Miss Laura seating herself on a chair.
"Will you please warm a little milk for him? And have you a box or a
basket down here that he can lie in?"

"I guess so," said the woman; "but he's awful dirty; you're not going to
let him sleep in the house, are you?"

"Only for to-night. He is very ill. A dreadful thing happened to him,
Mary." And Miss L