Dora made him lie down by her, with a good deal of persuasion; and when he was quiet, drew one of his long ears through and through her hand, repeating thoughtfully, “Even little Jip! Oh, poor fellow!”

“His lungs are good enough,” said my aunt, gaily, “and his dislikes are not at all feeble. He has a good many years before him, no doubt. But if you want a dog to race with, Little Blossom, he has lived too well for that, and I’ll give you one.”

“Thank you, aunt,” said Dora, faintly. “But don’t, please!”

“No?” said my aunt, taking off her spectacles.

“I couldn’t have any other dog but Jip,” said Dora. “It would be so unkind to Jip! Besides, I couldn’t be such friends with any other dog but Jip; because he wouldn’t have known me before I was married, and wouldn’t have barked at Doady when he first came to our house. I couldn’t care for any other dog but Jip, I am afraid, aunt.”