Tiger's prospective gratification, coupled with that of
the widow Larkums.

Going first to the Blakes, I found Tiger stretched out on the doorstep.
He wagged his tail appreciatively, but did not growl as I stroked his
shaggy coat.

Examining him by daylight, I saw that he was a fine specimen of his
species. Daniel explained to me afterward that he was a cross between a
St. Bernard and Newfoundland--a royal ancestry, truly, for any canine,
and unlike human off-shoots from the best genealogical trees, quite sure
of inheriting the finest qualities of his ancestors. I went into the
house, the dog limping after me. Mrs. Blake heard my voice and came in in
some alarm. She looked surprised to see me sitting by the table with
Tiger's massive head in my lap, while I unrolled the meat. She also stood
watching, and when the juicy steak was revealed, her own eyes brightened
as well as Tiger's. "I haven't seen such a piece of meat in many a day.
It minds me so of Oaklands."

"I got it from cook for Tiger," I explained. "It is clean--perhaps you
would like a few slices off it."

"I would, indeed. Its a shame to give a brute such victuals."

"Poor Tiger, he deserves something good, after the way he was punished on
my account." She brought a knife and plate saying: "We can share wi' each
other; I don't want to rob even a dog of his rights." I turned the meat
over and found a bone which I cut off and gave him, and then, giving the
remainder to her to put out of Tiger's way, I stipulated that he was to
have all the scraps that were left. Then I informed her of my gift from
Mr. Winthrop, or rather loan, and of the sum I purposed giving Mrs.
Larkum.

"Did Mr. Winthrop give you all that money for poor folks?" she asked
incredulously.

"Yes."

"Well, I've heard he never give anything except through the town council.
I've heard he was uncommon free in that way. But, laws! I reckoned the
first time I seen you that you'd be able afore long to wind him around
your finger. Fine manners and a handsome face, with a good heart, soon
thaws out a bachelor heart."

"You were never more mistaken in your life, Mrs. Blake."

"May be so," she said, as if quite unconvinced.

I turned the conversation rather abruptly:--

"Will ten dollars be too much to entrust Mrs. Larkum with at once?"

"Dear heart, you might give her fifty, if you had it. She'd be jest as
saving of it as--well as I'd be myself, and I call myself next door to
stingy."

"