e tumult and the
shouting had died, and the caracoling Foxy had buried his hideous little
black pansy-face in a costly Belleek dish of water.

"Yes," gasped Phyllis from her favorite seat, the floor; "but you
needn't keep him unless you want to. I can keep him where you'll never
see him--can't I, honey-dog-gums? Only I thought he'd be company for
you, and don't you think he seems--cheerful?"

Allan threw his picturesque head back on the cushions, and laughed and
laughed.

"Cheerful!" he said. "Most assuredly! Why--thank you, ever so much,
Phyllis. You're an awfully thoughtful girl. I always did like bulls--had
one in college, a Nelson. Come here, you little rascal!"

He whistled, and the puppy lifted its muzzle from the water, made a
dripping dash to the couch, and scrambled up over Allan as if they had
owned each other since birth. Never was a dog less weighed down by the
glories of ancestry.

Allan pulled the flopping bat-ears with his most useful hand, and asked
with interest, "Why on earth did they call a French bull Foxy?"

"Yes, sir," said Wallis. "I understand, sir, that he was the most active
and playful of the litter, and chewed up all his brothers' ears, sir.
And the kennel people thought it was so clever that they called him
Foxy."

"The best-tempered dog in the litter!" cried Phyllis, bursting into
helpless laughter from the floor.

"That doesn't mean he's bad-tempered," explained master and man eagerly
together. Phyllis began to see that she had bought a family pet as much
for Wallis as for Allan. She left them adoring the dog with that
reverent emotion which only very ugly bull-dogs can wake in a man's
breast, and flitted out, happy over the success of her new toy for
Allan.

"Take him out when he gets too much for Mr. Allan," she managed to say
softly to Wallis as she passed him. But, except for a run or so for his
health, Wallis and Allan between them kept the dog in the bedroom most
of the day. Phyllis, in one of her flying visits, found the little
fellow, tired with play, dog-biscuits, and other attentions, snuggled
down by his master, his little crumpled black muzzle on the pillow close
to Allan's contented, sleeping face. She felt as if she wanted to cry.
The pathetic lack of interests which made the coming of a new little dog
such an event!

Before she hung one more picture, before she set up even a book from the
boxes which had been her father's, before she arranged one more article
o