The tall lady scowled. "But these are valuable dogs."

"All dogs are alike to me. Canines."

The tall lady gave something between a snort and a sigh.

"Would you allow them to accept a sovereign apiece then?"

"That would be permissible."

"I shall be back directly," and with astonishing speed she ran to the house
with Colin and Giftie barking on either side of her. It was but a moment
till she returned and pressed a golden sovereign into each languid hand.
The sight of so much bullion all at once braced us for the moment, and we
forgot to be miserable. She came with us to the gate, asking a dozen
questions about ourselves, and our father, and Giftie's stay with us.
Giftie had to be restrained from following us, and with sinking hearts we
kissed her little black nose and said good-bye.

"Good-bye!" called the tall lady, "come again any time! Come and spend the
day with us!"

Our governess called us peremptorily. She was half a block in advance.

When we reached the chair, she said, in a conciliatory tone: "I shall
arrange for you to have some unusual treat from your reward, some concerts
and lantern lectures suited to your years, and maybe, as the Christmas
Season approaches, even a pantomime. What do you say?"

I looked at the woman. Was she mad to imagine that such paltry, sickly
treats could make up for the loss of three pups whose eyes were beginning
to open? My own eyes smarted with tears. I looked at Mary Ellen. Two bright
drops hung on her cheeks as she laboured behind the chair. I looked at
Angel. He was balancing himself on the curb with an air of desperate
indifference. I could hear The Seraph weeping as he brought up the rear.

I lingered behind to offer him a suck of a piece of licorice I had. Then I
saw that he had stopped and was hunched above the grating of a sewer. I
could but think that his spirits had reached such an ebb that nothing save
the contemplation of the foulest depths might salve his misery. But I was
mistaken! His hand moved above the grating. Something flashed. Then I
swelled my chest with pride in him. Truly, The Seraph was a brother to be
proud of--a fellow of sturdy passions, not to be trifled with!

He had chucked his sovereign down the sewer!

_Chapter V: Freedom_

I

Life became dull indeed after Giftie was taken from us. November drew on to
December; beating rains kept us indoors for days at a time. Mrs.
Handsomebody had a horror of wet feet. With faces presse