ld out a hand.

"So King is your name."

"Yes, sir."

"It is a royal one and gives you something to live up to."

As the boy did not know what to answer he was silent.

"And you like dogs?" said the inquisitor more kindly.

"I like all animals," returned Walter evasively, "and I am sure I
shall like your dogs because you always like anything you take care
of."

"So you do! I remember when I was about your age I tamed an old brown
weasel. He was a wretch of a creature with scarcely a virtue--cruel,
deceitful, cold-blooded; and yet I grew to love that brute as much as
if he had had the gentleness of a dove. You know how it is."

Walter nodded. For the moment the two came together on a plane of real
contact and sympathy, and the smile the elder gave him bound the lad
to his new employer as no spoken words could possibly have done.

But a second later Mr. Crowninshield's mood had changed and he was
storming at Mary, the waitress, and demanding whether she meant to
freeze them all by leaving the outside door open. Walter could see the
girl flush red and as he leaped forward to close the door she flashed
him a grateful, tremulous smile. Then Mr. Crowninshield turned toward
his wife.

"Mollie," he replied, "this is Walter King who is going to look after
your dogs. Come and speak to him."

The mistress of the house came. She was wearing a long blue traveling
coat and a jaunty little hat against which the gold of her hair was
resplendent as sunshine. Tucked under her arm was a wee dog with soft
brown fur and sharp little eyes. Mrs. Crowninshield was very pretty,
especially when she spoke. As Walter looked into her face he found it
so amazingly youthful that it was difficult for him to believe she was
actually the mother of a grown son and daughter.

"So it is you who are to be master of the kennels?" smiled she,
showing her even white teeth.

"Yes, Mrs. Crowninshield," faltered His Highness, a trifle overcome by
this new title.

From head to foot her glance swept over him.

"Well," said she at length, "if you keep the puppies as tidy as you
keep yourself I fancy we shall get on nicely together."

A flood of color mounted to the lad's forehead. He had not anticipated
such close inspection and instinctively he began to fumble with the
corner of his sweater and look nervously down at his hands. They must
be very dirty from making the fires. And he had been actually greeting
Mr. and Mrs. Crowninshield with paws