y Mr. Gordon, if nothing else does. I
fancy that brother-in-law of his has a nice little temper of his own,
and it will be so pleasant for Gordie to be nagged by a brother-in-law!"

* * * * *

When Edith got back to Oakleigh the morning that Bronson's note was
received she found wild excitement raging, which, for a time, made her
forget the letter.

Some of the Leghorn pullets, which, unfortunately, could fly high, had
escaped from the yard, notwithstanding the wire netting which enclosed
them, and had been having a fine time scratching and pecking in entirely
new hunting-grounds, when Bob happened along.

Here was his chance. For many months he had been waiting for this very
moment. What was the use of being a sporting dog, if he could not now
and then indulge his hunting proclivities? His master had gone on the
river and left him at home--his master did not treat him well, nowadays.
Bob felt neglected. He would have one good time.

He waited his opportunity, and when it came he made the most of it. A
fine fat hen, peacefully picking a worm, found the tables suddenly
turned. Instead of the worm being in her mouth, she found herself in the
mouth of the horrible black object which she had often seen peering
greedily at her through the fence. Oh, that she had never flown over
that fence! She gave one despairing "cluck" as she was borne madly
through the air, and then was silent forever.

Janet and Willy, playing near, heard the noise and followed in pursuit,
calling Cynthia as they did so, who, seeing what was the matter, flew
from the house, dogwhip in hand. The boys were both on the river.

For a time the chase was hopeless. Bob had not waited all these months
for nothing; he had no intention of dropping the prize at the first
command. Round and round he tore, leading his pursuers a pretty dance
through orchard and field, over the lawn, and through the
currant-bushes. Cynthia fell at this particular point, with Janet and
Willy on top of her, but they picked themselves up and started again.

At last Mrs. Franklin, coming out, headed Bob off, and Cynthia grasped
his collar.

"Bad dog!" she cried. "Neal told me I was to punish you, and I mean to
do it."

She cut him with the short whip, but it was of no avail. Bob had dropped
the chicken, and, wild with excitement, sprang from her hand. She only
succeeded in lashing herself with the whip.

"It's no use," she said at last. "I've g