"There, there, Biddy," interrupted Mrs. Lee, "I would n't say anything
more--it only aggravates him, and does no good. But, Oscar," she
added, "I 'm sorry you don't pay more attention to what your father
says. It's a bad habit to get into. I knew a disobedient boy, once,
who came to the gallows; and I 've known several others who made very
bad men."

"But you don't call me disobedient, do you, grandma'am?" inquired Oscar.

"I don't know what else to call it," she replied, "if your father tells
you to do a thing, and you take no notice of it."

"But father does n't want me to give Tige away--I don't believe he 's
thought of it again since that night."

"Then, if I were you," replied his grandmother, "I would ask his
consent to keep the dog. If he did n't mean what he said, that night,
you will be safe enough in asking him."

But this was a kind of reasoning that Oscar could not appreciate. If
he could carry his point just as well without his father's formal
consent, he thought it was useless to ask any such favor. As long as
he could keep his dog, it was all the same to him whether his father
withdrew his command, or silently acquiesced in his disobedience of it.

But grandmother Lee's visit was drawing to a close, and early one
bright, cool morning, in the latter part of December, the coach called,
to take her to the railroad depôt; and after a few kisses, and words of
affectionate advice, and lingering good-byes, she departed on her
homeward journey. Of those she left behind, next to her own daughter,