. In the half-light of the room the
little figure on the bed was dimly visible. Both men paused while the
doctor laid a professional hand on the child's pulse.

"She is all right," he remarked reassuringly.

"So you wanted to see me," began Mr. Waldron, looking down at the small
head where it lay on the pillow. "How pale she is!" he ejaculated to
himself. "I hope they have treated her properly!"

"Quite properly, thank you," replied Sophy, answering his half-whisper.
"I wanted you to see my daddy."

Mr. Waldron noticed for the first time the bowed head on the other side
of the bed.

"Yes," continued Sophy, following his glance. "This is my daddy, and he
wants to help me say 'Thank you.' For Dr. Norman has told me how kind
you are, if you are sometimes grumpy."

Philip Waldron slowly raised his head and stood up, facing his father
across the bed.

"Philip!"

"Yes, sir."

"Is it possible?"

"I did not intend you should find me here," said Philip, his voice
hoarse with emotion, "but it was her wish to see you; and I--I can go
away."

He moved as if to leave the room.

"Stay!" came a peremptory command. "I--I have forgiven you long ago, my
son; only pride and self-will stood in the way. For her sake, Philip!"

And the old man stretched a trembling hand across the child.

[Sidenote: Some true dog-stories for all who love dogs.]

Dogs We Have Known

BY

LADY CATHERINE MILNES-GASKELL

Some years ago I was the guest of my friends Colonel and Mrs. Hamilton.
Besides myself, there was a large Christmas party of friends and
children staying in the house. One evening in the drawing-room we all
joined in the children's play.

"What would you say," interposed Mr. Hillary, one of the guests, and he
addressed the children, "if we were all in turn to tell you stories of
all the dogs we have known?"

A little buzz of applause met this proposal, and our hostess, being
pressed to tell the first tale, began by saying, "Well, then, I will
tell you how I found my little terrier 'Snap.'"

"One day, about two years ago, I was driving into Charleston, which, as
you know, is about two miles off. A little distance from the park gates
I noticed that my pony carriage was followed by a little white dog--or
at least by a little dog that had once been white. It ran along through
the black mud of the roads, but nothing seemed to discourage it. On it
came, keeping up some ten yards behind my carriage.

"At first I th