Miss Drake stooped to pat her, saying:-- "Poor little dog.

Little Foreign Dog!" She rose with a sigh, to add incongruously, "Oh, the things we dream beforehand, and then the things that happen!" "I don't know." Heywood looked at her keenly.

"Sometimes they're the same." The jealous terrier scored her dusty paws down his white drill, from knee to ankle, before he added:-- "You know how the Queen of Heaven won her divinity." "Another," said the girl, "of your heathen stories ?" "Rather a pretty one," he retorted.

"It happened in a seaport, a good many hundred miles up the coast.

A poor girl lived there, with her mother, in a hut.