and calmly waited. Mr. Bobbsey walked toward him.

"Oh, don't--don't whip him, papa!" exclaimed Flossie.

"I don't intend to," said Mr. Bobbsey. "But I must be stern with
him or he will think I'm only playing. Go back!" he cried.

The dog stretched out on the path, his head down between his fore
paws.

"He--he looks--sad," said Freddie. "Maybe he hasn't any home,
papa."

"Oh, of course a valuable dog like that has a home," declared Bert.

"But maybe they didn't treat him kindly, and he is looking for a
new one," suggested Nan, hopefully.

"He doesn't seem ill-treated," spoke Mrs. Bobbsey. "Oh, I do wish
he'd go back, so we could go on."

Mr. Bobbsey pretended to pick up a stone and throw it at the dog,
as masters sometimes do when they do not want their dogs to follow
them. This dog only wagged his tail, as though he thought it the
best joke he had ever known.

"Go back! Go back, I say!" cried Papa Bobbsey in a loud voice. The
dog did not move.

"I guess he won't follow us any more," went on Mr. Bobbsey. "Hurry