Patricia looked up quickly. "You--you'll 'take the intention into
consideration,' Daddy?"

The doctor smiled. "Yes, but," his face grew grave again, "I must also
take into consideration the fact that this is by no means the first time
you have gone wandering off, causing your aunt a great deal of anxiety."

"I can't think why she will worry so. I always come back all right."

"That is not the point. It must be only the yard for the rest of the
week, Patricia."

Patricia drew a long breath. "Well," she said, slowly, "I _am_ glad
it's Thursday night 'stead of Monday morning."

* * * * *

Patricia sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. What had wakened her?

A second series of short, sharp little barks sent her hurrying to the
window. On the path below, a bit of frayed rope dangling from his neck,
stood Custard.

When the doctor came downstairs, twenty minutes later, he found Patricia
on the back steps, with Custard in her lap, busily placing a fresh
bandage on the hurt paw. "Daddy," she cried, lifting her face for his
morning greeting, "wasn't it too lovely of him to hunt me up. Isn't he
the most grateful dog ever was?"

The doctor patted the dog's rough head, then stooped to examine