n housecleaning time. Then he would come swaggering out with the air
of duty done, shaking his own skin. Sigurd's House was such a palace
that the children of the neighborhood liked to play in it, but our
collie deemed this high trespass and, from the screened study porch,
would roar indignant protest when five or six chubby tots, with that
saucy black spaniel, Curly, would all squeeze in together.

To the Scarab came new friends for Sigurd with new caresses, to which
he always made cordial and courteous response. Amelia crossed the ocean
to a waiting bridegroom and a happy home of her own, but Housewife
Honey-voice, with her little Esther, petted Sigurd even more devotedly.

Sigurd's only difficulty with Housewife Honey-voice, the only shadow on
their sympathy, arose from the delicacy of her appetite by which she
was inclined, at first, to measure his. When her enthusiasm and
culinary skill persuaded the family to go on a vegetable diet, Sigurd
gave us clearly to understand that we need not count him in. And when I
came home, one evening, from a week's motor trip, Sigurd barely waited
for his customary chant of welcome before gripping my dress and leading
me to the refrigerator.

"Hasn't Sigurd had his dinner yet?"

"Why, yes, an hour ago."

"Nonsense, boy! You're not hungry. Nobody is hungry just after dinner."

"What a whopper!" sighed Sigurd, as he pattered after me back to the
study.

No sooner had I turned my attention to the accumulation of letters on
my desk than again Sigurd pulled gently, yet with determination, at my
skirt and insisted on a second promenade to the refrigerator.

"He really is hungry. How much have you been giving him for dinner?"

But when I saw the measure, I heaped his plate, while he eagerly
watched the process, waving his tail in triumph, but hurrying once
across the kitchen to snuggle his head against the knee of Housewife
Honey-voice, looking up at her with those comprehending, trustful eyes
that said:

"You didn't _mean_ to starve dear Sigurd, and now that you know how big
my hollow is, it will be all right forever."

Every autumn a new horde of freshmen fell in love with him and visiting
alumnae embraced him in mid-campus. Toward the Freshman Twins, who
gladdened the Scarab one year, he conducted himself like a sophomore,
humoring their childish ways, guiding them through the college
labyrinth, serving as a towel for their homesick tears and partaking
freely of their cons