not often wait for introductions unless she disliked people.
And no child could have found it in its heart to dislike anything so big
and kind and fatherly as Luke Raeburn.

"We blought a little dog for Elica," she said, in her silvery treble.

And the next moment she was established on Raeburn's knee, encouraged
to thrust a little, dimpled hand into his pocket for certain Edinburgh
dainties.

"Dolly does not beat about the bush," said Donovan, smiling. "Would you
at all care to have this small animal? I knew you were fond of dogs,
and Gladys and I saw this little toy Esquimanx the other day and fell
in love with him. I find though that another dog rather hurts Waif's
feelings, so you will be doing a kindness to him as well if you will
accept 'Tottie.'"

"Oh, how delightful of you! It was kind of you to think of it," said
Erica. "I have always so longed to have a dog of my own. And this is
such a little beauty! Is it not a very rare breed?"

"I believe it is, and I think he's a loving little beggar, too," replied
Donovan. "He is making himself quite at home here, is he not?"

And in truth the small dog seemed deeply interested in his new
residence. He was the tiniest of his kind, and was covered with long
black hair which stood straight up on end; his pointed nose, bright
brown eyes, and cunning little ears, set in the frame work of bushy
hair, gave him a most sagacious appearance. And just now he was brimful
of curiosity, pattering all over the room, poking his nose into a great
pile of "Idol-Breakers," sniffing at theological and anti-theological
books with perfect impartiality, rubbing himself against Raeburn's foot
in the most ingratiating way, and finally springing up on Erica's lap
with the oddest mixture of defiance and devotion in his eyes which said
as plainly as if he had spoken: "People may say what they like about
you, but I'm your faithful dog from this day forward!"

Raeburn was obliged to go out almost directly as he had an appointment
in the city, but Erica knew that he had seen enough of Donovan to
realize what he was and was satisfied.

"I am so glad you have just met," she said when he had left the room.
"And, as to Dolly, she's been a real god-send. I haven't seen my father
smile before for a week."

"Strange, is it not, how almost always children instinctively take to
those whom the world treats as outcasts. I have a great belief that
God lets the pure and innocent make up in part by their