"Oh, let me see Beauty, Fanchette," begged Howell.
"Make him sit up and do some tricks." The maid pushed them away with a strong hand, and then carefully drew aside a corner of the covering.

Lloyd gave an exclamation of pleasure, for the head that popped out was that of a bright little French poodle.

She had thought many times that morning of the two Bobs, and good old Fritz, dead and gone, of Boots, the hunting-dog, and the goat and the gobbler and the parrot,--all the animals she had loved and played with at Locust, wishing she had them with her.

Now as she saw the bright eyes of the poodle peeping over the blanket, she forgot that she was a stranger, and running across the deck, she stooped down beside it.
"Oh, the darling little dog!" she exclaimed, touching the silky hair softly.

"May I hold him for a minute ?" The maid smiled, but shook her head.