bandaged his wounds, and made him a bed in the stable.

One Sunday morning she washed and fed him very tenderly, for she knew
he could not live much longer. He was so weak that he could scarcely eat
the food that she put in his mouth, so she let him lick some milk from
her finger. As she was going to church, I could not go with her, but I
ran down the lane and watched her out of sight. When I came back, Dandy
was gone. I looked till I found him. He had crawled into the darkest
corner of the stable to die, and though he was suffering very much, he
never uttered a sound. I sat by him and thought of his master in New
York. If he had brought Dandy up properly he might not now be here in
his silent death agony. A young pup should be trained just as a child
is, and punished when he goes wrong. Dandy began badly, and not being
checked in his evil ways, had come so this. Poor Dandy! Poor, handsome
dog of a rich master! He opened his dull eyes, gave me one last glance,
then, with a convulsive shudder, his torn limbs were still. He would
never suffer any more.

When Miss Laura came home, she cried bitterly to know that he was dead.
The boys took him away from her, and made him a grave in the corner of
the garden.

CHAPTER XXXVII THE END OF MY STORY

I HAVE come now to the last chapter of my story. I thought when I began
to write, that I would put down the events of each year of my life, but
I fear that would make my story too long, and neither Miss Laura nor any
boys and girls would care to read it. So I will stop just here, though
I would gladly go on, for I have enjoyed so much talking over old times,
that I am very sorry to leave off.

Every year that I have been at the Morrises', something pleasant has
happened to me, but I cannot put all these things down, nor can I tell
how Miss Laura and the boys grew and changed, year by year, till now
they are quite grown up. I will just bring my tale down to the present
time, and then I will stop talking, and go lie down in my basket, for I
am an old dog now, and get tired very easily.

I was a year old when I went to the Morrises, and I have been with them
for twelve years. I am not living in the same house with Mr. and Mrs.
Morris now, but I am with my dear Miss Laura, who is Miss Laura no
longer, but Mrs. Gray. She married Mr. Harry four years ago, and lives
with him and Mr. and Mrs. Wood, on Dingley Farm. Mr. and Mrs. Morris
live in a cottage near by. Mr. Morris is not ve