sweet smile at the boys, she passed by them and came up to the
guinea pig's box, behind which I had taken refuge. "What is the
matter with your head, good dog?" she said, curiously, as she
stooped over me.

"He has a cold in it," said one of the boys with a laugh; "so we put
a nightcap on." She drew back, and turned very pale. "Cousin
Harry, there are drops of blood on this cotton. Who has hurt this
dog?"

"Dear Laura," and the young man coming up, laid his hand on her
shoulder, "he got hurt, and I have been bandaging him."

"Who hurt him?"

"I had rather not tell you."

"But I wish to know." Her voice was as gentle as ever, but she
spoke so decidedly that the young man was obliged to tell her
everything. All the time he was speaking, she kept touching me
gently with her fingers. When he had finished his account of
rescuing me from Jenkins, she said, quietly:

"You will have the man punished?"

"What is the use? That won't stop him from being cruel."

"It will put a check on his cruelty."

"I don't think it would do any good," said the young man,