d. Perhaps he was thinking of
a poor, forlorn little animal who had until that morning been hunted and
driven, half starved, never caressed.

"I wonder," Patricia said, anxiously, "if Mr. Carr wouldn't like you?
We'll go see, at any rate."

Up the hill they trudged, to where, in his little cabin, lived old Carr,
the cobbler.

He was at his bench as usual, and he paused, needle in air, at sight of
his visitors.

Patricia was growing desperate; she went straight to the heart of her
errand.

She and Carr were great friends, and the latter was immensely
interested. Over his spectacles he surveyed the pair. Patricia's gray
eyes had lost their confidence; they were almost as unconsciously
pathetic as the dog's brown ones.

"Well," Carr said, slowly, "there's no denying a dog's company; and
since old Sampson died--"

Patricia beamed. "Then you will take him? And you won't mind if he's
rather--lively? You see, he's so very young. Maybe, I'd better tell you
everything." And sitting down on one end of the workbench, Patricia made
full confession of her charge's misdoings. "But I think he's sorry," she
ended, hopefully.

"Sure, Miss," Carr assented; "especially as to the custard--that there
wasn't more. What's his name, Miss?"

"I don't know. I've called him just Dog."

"I reckon he won't care what he's called, so long as you don't call him
too late for dinner," Carr remarked. "How about Custard? It'd keep his
sin afore him." He took a piece of rope from the floor. "I'd best tie
him for a bit at first."

It was half-past four when Patricia reached home. Sarah was upstairs and
Aunt Julia busy with callers.

Making a hasty raid on the pantry, Patricia slipped quietly up the back
way to her own room. Aunt Julia had said it must be bed; and there was
no particular use in waiting to be sent.

She was just getting into bed, after a hurried bath, when Miss Kirby,
having learned from certain unmistakable evidence that Patricia had
returned, came upstairs.

"Patricia!" she exclaimed, her voice expressing almost as much relief as
displeasure, "where have you been?"

Patricia moved restlessly. "I've been--everywhere!"

"Sarah has ransacked the entire neighborhood." Displeasure was fast
becoming the dominant note in Miss Kirby's voice now that Patricia was
safe in bed before her. "Of course you understand," she began.

Patricia raised a small, flushed face. "Please, Aunt Julia, I'm in
bed--and you didn't have to send m