dazzling shirt-front, and picked up his high hat, Satan would sit
perfectly still and look disconsolate; for as there were no
parties or theatres for Dinnie, so there were none for him. But no
matter how late it was when Uncle Carey came home, he always saw
Satan's little black nose against the window-pane and heard his
bark of welcome.

After intelligence, Satan's chief trait was lovableness--nobody
ever knew him to fight, to snap at anything or to get angry; after
lovableness, it was politeness. If he wanted something to eat, if
he wanted Dinnie to go to bed, if he wanted to get out of the
door, he would beg--beg prettily on his haunches, his little red
tongue out and his funny little paws hanging loosely. Indeed, it
was just because Satan was so little less than human, I suppose,
that old Satan began to be afraid he might have a soul. So the
wicked old namesake with the Hoofs and Horns laid a trap for
little Satan, and, as he is apt to do, he began laying it early--
long, indeed, before Christmas.

When Dinnie started to kindergarten that autumn, Satan found that
there was one place where he could never go. Like the lamb, he
could not go to school; so while Dinnie was away, Satan began to
make friends. He would bark, "Howdy-do?" to every dog that passed
his gate. Many stopped to rub noses with him through the fence--
even Hugo the mastiff, and nearly all, indeed, except one strange-
looking dog that appeared every morning at precisely nine o'clock
and took his stand on the corner. There he would lie patiently
until a funeral came along, and then Satan would see him take his
place at the head of the procession; and thus he would march out
to the cemetery and back again. Nobody knew where he came from nor