"But won't that make her fret?" asked the Mistress of the Kennels.

"Not very much if we let Finn be with her, I think," said the Master.

"And, in any case, she really isn't fit to go on feeding of that great
pup," repeated the vet. He even spoke of threatening trouble of the
milk-glands, which might mean losing Desdemona altogether. Her complete
loss of that smooth sleekness which life with humans gives deceived the
vet more than a little. And the upshot of it all was that Betty Murdoch
took over the sole management of the black-and-gray pup--her pup, as
Colonel Forde called him; and Desdemona and Finn were taken over to
Shaws in a cart, Finn being kept with the bloodhound to prevent her from
fretting for her puppy. At Shaws, Desdemona was established in a loose
box under the vet's supervision, and Finn spent some days there with
her.

Betty always said she had no earthly reason for christening her
black-and-gray pup Jan; but that, somehow, the name occurred to her as
fitting him from the moment at which she first saw him endeavoring to
stand up and growl at her pony, Punch, at the vixen, and at the world
generally on the Downs. From that same time Jan seemed to every one else
to fit his name; and it was clear he had taken a great fancy to Betty
Murdoch ever since she had wrapped him in her jacket and carried him
home triumphantly on her saddle-bow from the cave on the Downs.

If the season had been winter instead of midsummer, the orphaned Jan
would doubtless have missed greatly the warmth of his mother's body. As
it was, the harness-room stove was kept going at night to insure warmth
in the stable; and a large box, too deep for Jan to climb out from, and