meat, and she ate it. Four of the pups died. This is the only one left.
Mr. Robinson says his man doesn't understand raising pups without their
mothers, and as he is going away, he wants us to have it, for we always
had such luck in nursing sick animals."

Mr. Robinson I knew was a friend of the Morrises, and a gentleman who
was fond of fancy stock, and imported a great deal of it from England.
If this puppy came from him, it was sure to be good one.

Miss Laura took the tiny creature, and went upstairs very thoughtfully.
I followed her, and watched her get a little basket and line it with
cotton wool. She put the puppy in it and looked at him. Though it was
midsummer, and the house seemed very warm to me, the little creature was
shivering, and making a low murmuring noise. She pulled the wool all
over him and put the window down, and set his basket in the sun,

Then she went to the kitchen and got some warm milk. She dipped her
finger in it, and offered it to the puppy, but he went nosing about it
in a stupid way, and wouldn't touch it "Too young," Miss Laura said. She
got a little piece of muslin put some bread in it, tied a string round
it, and dipped it in the milk. When she put this to the puppy's mouth,
he sucked it greedily. He acted as if he was starving, but Miss Laura
only let him have a little.

Every few hours for the rest of the day, she gave him some more milk,
and I heard the boys say that for many nights she got up once or twice
and heated milk over a lamp for him. One night the milk got cold before
he took it, and he swelled up and became so ill that Miss Laura had to
rouse her mother and get some hot water to plunge him in. That made him
well again, and no one seemed to think it was a great deal of trouble to