unching of gravel, and Jerry's scurrying feet came
pattering down the stairs.

"It's the folks!" he announced excitedly. "We warn't a minute too
soon. Tuck those logs into the brass box; pick up your cap, laddie,
and light out of here quick."

The order, alas, came too late. His Highness had only time enough to
hurry the birch wood into the box and bang down the cover before
flying footsteps filled the house, maids appeared from every door, and
there was a blast of wind, a babel of voices, and the discomfited boy
found himself face to face with his employers.

His first impression of Mr. Crowninshield, muffled to the chin in a
heavy motor coat, was of a large, red-cheeked man who, although he
moved with little apparent stir, nevertheless in an incredibly short
interval had shaken hands with most of the servants, directed where
each piece of luggage was to be put, commented on a new lock on the
front door, and noticed that the clock was two minutes slow. His
moving eye had also been caught by the roses on the table and he
turned to ask from which garden they came.

"All this he did, Ma," explained Walter to his mother afterward,
"before you could say Jack Robinson. And in between he was scolding
all the time about the weather and saying how idiotic it was to leave
a warm, comfortable city like New York and come to a damp hole like
the Cape."

"Is this the best day you could manage to get together, Jerry?"
growled he. "Pretty beastly, I call it."

"It certainly is wet, sir."

"Wet! I should say it was! It's infernally wet! How long is it going
to keep up like this?"

"I can't say, sir."

"Well, you have the sun out to-morrow or I shall go straight back
where I came from. Little old New York is good enough for me when the
place looks like this."

At that instant he espied His Highness lurking near a distant window.

"Who are you, young man?" he called.

"Walter King, sir."

"Oh, the young chap who is going to look after the dogs?"

"Yes, sir."

"Humph! Like dogs?"

"I--yes, sir," answered the lad at a warning glance from Jerry.

Ruthlessly the hawklike eyes devoured him.

"So you think you can take care of a lot of prize pups, do you?"

"I am going to try," was the modest reply.

"You can't stop with trying, my son. You've got to do it," announced
the man sharply.

"I shall do my best."

"That is all I shall ask."

A sudden smile melted the stern countenance into geniality and the
master he