"He'll spoil my flower beds--he'll trample them all down and
after I've worked four weeks getting--"

"Yes; here he comes," exulted Phil.

At that moment Emperor, with his trainer, Mr. Kennedy, swung out
of line and entered the garden gate. Turning to the left they
headed directly across the lawn. The precious flower beds lay
right in his path.

"Oh, my flowers! They're ruined," moaned the widow.

"Watch him and you'll see," answered Phil, his face wreathed
in smiles.

She did, and her eyes opened wider when Emperor cautiously raised
one ponderous foot after another until he had stepped clear of
the first bed of flowers. The same thing happened when he got to
the second bed. Not even the imprint of his footfalls was left
on the fresh green grass of the lawn.

Mrs. Cahill's eyes were large and wondering. A sudden impulse
stirred her to spring up and flee into the house.

Phil, noting it, laid a restraining hand lightly, on her arm.

"Don't be afraid," he reassured. "Emperor will not harm you.
You see how careful he is of your lawn and your flower beds.
I think he is coming here for some purpose."