rap at me, no doubt. But just how or what for I passed up. I
might have forgotten it altogether if she hadn't reminded me now and
then by favorin' me with a suspicious glare, the kind one of Mr.
Palmer's agents might give to a party in a checked suit steppin' off the
train from Montreal with something bulgin' on the hip.

So it was kind of unfortunate that when Vee suddenly remembers the
Airedale pup and asks where he is that I should say just what I did.
"Buddy?" says I. "Oh, he's all right. I shut him up myself."

It was a fact. I had. And I'd meant well by it. For that's one of the
things we have to look out for when Auntie's visitin' us, to keep Buddy
away from her. Not that there's anything vicious about Buddy. Not at
all. But being only a year old and full of pep and affection, and not at
all discriminatin', he's apt to be a bit boisterous in welcomin'
visitors; and while some folks don't mind havin' fifty pounds of dog
bounce at 'em sudden, or bein' clawed, or havin' their faces licked by a
moist pink tongue, Auntie ain't one of that kind. She gets petrified and
squeals for help and insists that the brute is trying to eat her up.

So as soon as I'd come home and had my usual rough-house session with
Buddy, I leads him upstairs and carefully parks him in the south bedroom
over the kitchen wing. Being thoughtful and considerate, I call that.
Not to Buddy maybe, who's used to spendin' the dinner hour with his nose
just inside the dinin' room door; but to Auntie, anyway.

Which is why I'm so surprised, along about 9 o'clock when Auntie has
made an early start for a good night's rest, to hear these loud hostile
woofs comin' from him and then these blood curdlin' screams.

"For the love of Mike!" I gasps. "Where did you put Auntie?"

"Why, in the south bedroom this time," says Vee.

"Hal-lup!" says I. "That's where I put Buddy."

It was a race then up the stairs, with me tryin' to protest on the jump
that I didn't know Vee had decided to shift Auntie from the reg'lar
guest room to this one.

"Surely you didn't," admits Vee. "But I thought the south room would be
so much sunnier and more cheerful. I--I'll explain to Auntie."

"It can't be done," says I. "Stop it, Buddy! All right, boy. It's
perfectly all right."

Buddy don't believe it, though, until I've opened the door and switched
on the light. Young as he is he's right up on the watch-dog act and when
strangers come prowlin' around in the dark that's his