ent that, is there?"

"And there is no law to prevent my giving you a beating," said the young
man, angrily. In a trice he had seized Jenkins by the throat, and was
pounding him with all his might. Mrs. Jenkins came and stood at the
house door, crying, but making no effort to help her husband.

"Bring me a towel," the young man cried to her, after he had stretched
Jenkins, bruised and frightened, on the ground. She snatched off her
apron, and ran down with it, and the young man wrapped me in it, and
taking me carefully in his arms, walked down the path to the gate. There
were some little boys standing there, watching him, their mouths wide
open with astonishment. "Sonny," he said to the largest of them, "if you
will come behind and carry this dog, I will give you a quarter."

The boy took me, and we set out. I was all smothered up in a cloth, and
moaning with pain, but still I looked out occasionally to see which way
we were going. We took the road to the town and stopped in front of a
house on Washington Street. The young man leaned his bicycle up against
the house, took a quarter from his pocket and put it in the boy's hand,
and lifting me gently in his arms, went up a lane leading to the back of
the house.

There was a small stable there. He went into it, put me down on the
floor and uncovered my body. Some boys were playing about the stable,
and I heard them say, in horrified tones, "Oh, Cousin Harry, what is the
matter with that dog?"

"Hush," he said. "Don't make a fuss. You, Jack, go down to the kitchen
and ask Mary for a basin of warm water and a sponge, and don't let your
mother or Laura hear you."

A few minutes later, the young man had bathed my bleeding ears and tail,
and had rubbed something on them that was cool and pleasant, and had
bandaged them firmly with strips of cotton. I felt much better and was
able to look about me,

I was in a small stable, that was evidently not used for a stable, but
more for a play-room. There were various kinds of toys scattered about
and a swing and bar, such as boys love to twist about on, in two
different corners. In a box against the wall was a guinea pig, looking
at me in an interested way. This guinea pig's name was Jeff, and he and
I became good friends. A long-haired French rabbit was hopping about,
and a tame white rat was perched on the shoulder of one of the boys, and
kept his foothold there, no matter how suddenly the boy moved. There
were so many boys, a