More than once, during that recital, the doctor's mouth twitched under
his mustache, and he turned rather suddenly to look out of the window.

"But, Pat," he exclaimed, as she finished, "what made it so imperative
for you to find that tramp dog a home?"

Patricia's gray eyes were very earnest. "Some one had to do it, Daddy."

The doctor smoothed back the soft, thick curls. "But, Pat, I cannot have
you burdening yourself with the responsibility of finding homes for all
the stray animals that cross your path."

"He was so miserable, Daddy--outside; and so really nice--inside.
I don't believe he liked being a tramp dog."

The doctor stooped and kissed her; it was not easy to be severe with
Patricia. "Still, dear, it must not happen again; you run too great
a risk; stray dogs are not always very dependable as to temper."

"It's going to be mighty hard not to, Daddy."

"And Patricia, where are my scissors, and salve, and soap?"

"I'm afraid--down by the brook; so's the towel. I was glad I'd watched
you bandage Caesar's paw that time."

"That is all very well; but, Patricia, you are not to meddle with any of
the office things again without permission. And now, about this matter
of breaking bounds to-day?"