e for a dog!" he commented "Still, I don't care what
his name is, so long as he's the right kind of dog! Why don't you write
to Aunt Eliza to-night?"

"Of course Andrew may be dead," she hazarded. "Dogs do die."

"Oh, I guess Andrew isn't dead!" he said hopefully "That tough kind of
dog lasts a long time. What will you say to Aunt Eliza?"

Mrs. Appleboy went to the dresser and took a pad and pencil from one of
the shelves.

"Oh, something like this," she answered, poising the pencil over the
pad in her lap:

"Dear Aunt Eliza: I hope you are quite well. It is sort of lonely living
down here on the beach and there are a good many rough characters, so we
are looking for a dog for companionship and protection Almost any kind
of healthy dog would do and you may be sure he would have a good home.
Hoping to see you soon. Your affectionate niece, Bashemath."

"I hope she'll send us Andrew," said Appleboy fervently.

"I guess she will!" nodded Bashemath.

* * * * *

"What on earth is that sign?" wrathfully demanded Mrs. Tunnygate one
morning about a week later as she looked across the Appleboys' lawn from
her kitchen window. "Can you read it, Herman?"

Herman stopped trying to adjust his collar and went out on the piazza.

"Something about 'dog'," he declared finally.

"Dog!" she exclaimed. "They haven't got a dog!"

"Well," he remarked, "that's what the sign says: 'Beware of the dog'!
And there's something above it. Oh! 'No crossing this property.
Trespassing forbidden.'"

"What impudence!" avowed Mrs. Tunnygate. "Did you ever know such
people! First they try and take land that don't belong to them, and then
they go and lie about having a dog. Where are they, anyway?"

"I haven't seen 'em this morning," he answered. "Maybe they've gone away
and put up the sign so we won't go over. Think that'll stop us!"

"In that case they've got another think comin'!" she retorted angrily.
"I've a good mind to have you go over and tear up the whole place!"

"'N pull up the hedge?" he concurred eagerly. "Good chance!"

Indeed, to Mr. Tunnygate it seemed the supreme opportunity both to
distinguish himself in the eyes of his blushing bride and to gratify
that perverse instinct inherited from our cave-dwelling ancestors to
destroy utterly--in order, perhaps, that they may never seek to avenge
themselves upon us--those whom we have wronged. Accordingly Mr.
Tunnygate girded himself with his suspen