wouldn't mind, very much. S'pose we leave it that way? I guess
Bruce'll like being with you, Miss. I--I guess pretty near
anybody would. You'll--you'll try not to be too homesick for
Lass, won't you?"

On the steps of the veranda the downy and fat puppy watched his
mother's departure with no especial interest. By the Mistress's
wish, Mr. Hazen had not been required to make any part of his
proffered hundred-dollar payment for the return of his boy's pet.
All the Mistress had stipulated was that Lass might be allowed to
remain at The Place until baby Bruce should no longer need her.

"Bruce," said the Mistress as the car rolled up the drive and out
of sight, "you are the sole visible result of The Place's
experiment in raising prize collies. You have a tremendous
responsibility on those fat little shoulders of yours,--to live
up to it all."

By way of showing his scorn for such trifles as a "tremendous
responsibility," Bruce proceeded to make a ferocious onslaught at
the Mistress's temperamental gray Persian kitten, "Tipperary,"
which was picking a mincing way across the veranda.

A howl of pain and two scratches on his tiny nose immediately
followed the attack. Tipperary then went on with her mincing
promenade. And Bruce, with loud lamentations, galloped to the
shelter of the Mistress's skirt.

"Poor little chap!" soothed the Mistress, picking him up and
comforting him. "Responsibility isn't such a joke, after all, is