wouldn't play."

"Oh, we must do something for him. It would break my heart if he
died," cried poor Beth.

"I'm skeered it's too late, but mebbe, if I fotch," began January. But
Don, with one long, loving look at Beth, gave up his breath with a
gasp, stretching out in the rigidity of death.

"It is too late," said Mr. Davenport huskily.

"No, no, no," cried Beth; "God wouldn't be so cruel as to let him die.
Don, look at me. Dear old doggie, I love you, I love you."

But Don was beyond range of her call. Mrs. Davenport and Marian were
crying softly, too, and there were tears even in the eyes of Mr.
Davenport and January.

"You'se breakfasts all gettin' cole," called Maggie, not knowing of the
trouble.

"Food would choke me," declared Marian.

"I couldn't eat either. Do you want anything, James?" asked Mrs.
Davenport.

"No,--I'm not hungry now," there was a break in Mr. Davenport's voice.

"Clear off the table, Maggie. Don is dead."

"Don dead?" cried Maggie, running out, "Why what am de mattah?"

"I 'lows he got hole some of de rat pizen," said January.

At sight of Beth's intense grief, Maggie's heart melted.

"Dar, dar, honey, don't yo' cry. Yo'se pah'll get you anoder dog."

"I don't want another dog. I--want--my--Don. I want him, I'll never
be happy again," and Beth cried so hard that Mr. Davenport tried to
comfort her.

"Beth," he said, "I have some news that will make you happy. I knew
all about it last night, but I wouldn't tell you because I wanted you
to find it out for yourself. Both your dress and cake have taken
prizes--first prizes at that."

Her sobs did not lessen in the least. She hid her face on her father's
shoulder and murmured:

"A hundred prizes wouldn't make up for dear old Don,--my dear old
doggie who saved my life."

CHAPTER XII

The Arrival of Duke

The death of Don so preyed upon Beth's spirits, that one night Mrs.
Davenport took her in her arms and said:

"Do you remember that once when I was sad about something, you slipped
your arms around my neck and asked, 'Mamma, what makes you think of the
unpleasant things? why don't you just think of the nice things? That's
the way I do.'"

"Did I say that really?"

Mrs. Davenport smiled at the mournfulness of Beth's tones.

"Yes, dear, and now mamma wants you to practice what you preached. I
think you and I will have to form a 'Pleasant Club.' Every night we
will tell each other all the pleasant t