We _couldn't_ have
loved him more," we said. "The real of it turned out quite as nice as
the fancy."

Then papa spoke to us very seriously. I daresay you can tell of
yourselves--all of you who have nice fathers and mothers--the sort of
way he spoke. About being quite, _quite_ true and honest even in
thinkings, and about how dangerous it is to try to deceive _ourselves_,
for that the self we try to deceive is the best part of us, the voice of
God in our hearts, and it can never _really_ be deceived, only, if we
don't listen to it, after a while we can't hear it any more.

"Yes," said Persis, "I did know I was shamming to my good self all the
time."

Then she cried a little more--and I did too. And papa kissed us, and we
went on home, rather sadly of course, but still feeling, in a good way,
glad too. And papa told it all to mamma, so that she kissed us _very_
nicely when she said good-night, and called us her poor darlings.

You may think that is the end. But it isn't. The end is lovely.

About a week after that day, one afternoon we heard that a lady and
gentleman with a big dog had come to call on papa and mamma. We were
afraid it was Bruno, and the people belonging to him, and as we didn't
want to see him again, we were just going to run out and hide in the
garden for fear we should be sent for, when papa himself came calling
for us.

"Persis. Archie." And we dared not run away.

"Papa," we said, "we don't want to come if it is Bruno."

"It is Bruno," he said; "but, all the same, you must come. You must
trust me."

We had to go into the drawing-room. There was the girl talking quite
nicely to mamma, and a gentleman with her, who we saw was her brother,
and--there was Bruno! We tried not to look at him, while we shook hands.
How silly we were!

"Children," said papa, "this young lady has come to say something which
will please you very much. She finds, quite unexpectedly, that she
cannot keep her dog, as she and Mr. Riverton"--papa made a little bow to
the brother--"are going abroad. Miss Riverton wants a good home for her
dog. Do you think we could promise him one?"

We could scarcely speak. It seemed too good to be true.

"Would he be ours for always?" I asked, and the young lady said, "Yes,
of course. I wouldn't want to give you the pain of parting with him
_twice_, you poor children."

"And mamma says we may?" we asked. And mamma nodded. Then Persis had a
nice thought.

"Aren't you very sorry?" s