loved by a dog?

He sat down in the library to collect himself and observed, with a
curious sense of detachment, that Evelina was walking in the hall
instead of in the library, as she usually did when he sat there.

An hour--or perhaps two--went by, then, unexpectedly, Ralph came home,
having paused a moment outside. He rushed into the library with his
face aglow.

"Look, Dad," he cried, boyishly, holding it at arm's length; "see what
I found on the steps! It's a pearl necklace, with a diamond in the
clasp! Some of the stones are discoloured, but they're good and can be
made right again, I've found it, so it's mine, and I'm going to give it
to the girl I marry!"

Anthony Dexter's pale face suddenly became livid. He staggered over to
Ralph, snatched the necklace out of his hand, and ground the pearls
under his heel. "No," he cried, "a thousand times, no! The pearls are
cursed!"

Then, for the second time, he fainted.

XVIII

Undine

"It's almost as good as new!" cried Araminta, gleefully. She was clad
in a sombre calico Mother Hubbard, of Miss Mehitable's painstaking
manufacture, and hopping back and forth on the bare floor of her room
at Miss Evelina's.

"Yes," answered Doctor Ralph, "I think it's quite as good as new." He
was filled with professional pride at the satisfactory outcome of his
first case, and yet was not at all pleased with the idea of Araminta's
returning to Miss Mehitable's, as, perforce, she soon must do.

"Don't walk any more just now," he said "Come here and sit down. I
want to talk to you."

Araminta obeyed him unquestioningly. He settled her comfortably in the
haircloth easy-chair and drew his own chair closer. There was a pause,
then she looked up at him, smiling with childish wistfulness.

"Are you sorry it's well?" he asked.

"I--I think I am," she answered, shyly, the deep crimson dyeing her
face.

"I can't see you any more, you know," said Ralph, watching her intently.

The sweet face saddened in an instant and Araminta tapped her foot
restlessly upon the floor. "Perhaps," she returned, slowly, "Aunt
Hitty will be taken sick. Oh, I do hope she will!"

"You miserable little sinner," laughed Ralph, "do you suppose for a
moment that Aunt Hitty would send for me if she were ill? Why, I
believe she'd die first!"

"Maybe Mr. Thorpe might be taken sick," suggested Araminta, hopefully.
"He's old, and sometimes I think he isn't very strong."

"He'd insist