st the latter, being fearful that it might, perhaps, be construed
as conveying a subtle hint of reproach. Mr. Maclin's lawn also was
defaced by many unsightly holes.

Miss Clementina wondered a little that the article "the" should have
replaced the possessive pronoun "my." But on reflection she decided
that one might not unreasonably object to confessing in so many words
to the possession of a dog who so persistently did all the things he
ought not to do. And, anyway, it was nice of Mr. Maclin to have sent
the flowers.

Miss Clementina wrote a charming note of thanks, and earnestly assured
Mr. Maclin that she didn't object in the least to the little dog's
digging up her lawn.

Mr. Maclin smiled at the _naivete_ of the little note, and tucked it
carefully away in his pocketbook.

Thereafter the two bowed soberly when they chanced to meet, and
occasionally exchanged a casual remark concerning the weather.

And once, when Miss Clementina was picking the dead leaves from what
was left of the geranium plants, Mr. Maclin paused to remark that the
little brown dog seemed very fond of her.

"And of you, too," Miss Clementina had quickly returned. It couldn't
be pleasant, she thought, for Mr. Maclin to feel that his pet had
deserted him for a stranger.

"It's the dog biscuits I give him," Mr. Maclin explained,
confidentially.

"Oh," said Miss Clementina, "is he fond of them? I've always
considered meat much more nourishing."

"I dare say it is," Mr. Maclin agreed. "But dog biscuits are handier
to keep about. And he comes for them so often."

Then, covered with confusion, he beat a hasty retreat. He hadn't
intended to hint at the voracious appetite of Miss Clementina's pet.

IV.

Miss Clementina looked with dismay at the much battered object the
little brown dog had just brought in and laid at her feet. It was all
that remained of Mr. Maclin's best Panama hat.

Miss Clementina picked it up gingerly. She crossed the strip of lawn
between the two houses and rang her neighbor's doorbell.

"I'm so sorry," she said, extending the hat to its owner. "It's really
_too_ bad of the little dog."

"It's of not the very slightest consequence," returned Mr. Maclin,
gallantly.

"Oh, but I think it is," Miss Clementina insisted. "He's a very bad
little dog, really. Don't you think perhaps you ought to whip him--not
hard, but just enough to make him remember?"

"Whip him! Whip your dog! My dear Miss Liddell, I couldn't th