"I think not, Aunt Faith. Are you going? Then I may as well finish my
practising;" and for the next hour the Spring-song filled the parlor
with its oft-repeated harmony.

Down in the back garden, Tom and Gem were deeply engaged in the
construction of an underground shanty. The grassy terrace behind the
north piazza sloped down in a gentle declivity towards the vegetable
garden, and at the base of this small hill the two sappers and miners
were at work, their operations being marked by a convenient growth of
currant-bushes at the top. The three dogs watched the proceedings with
great interest. Turk, always thoughtful of his own comfort, had
stretched himself out near by under the shadow of the bushes, and Pete
Trone, in the excess of his zeal, had burrowed so far into the hill
that nothing was to be seen but his tail and hind legs; Grip, however,
persisted in tearing around the garden in wild circles, barking
furiously every time he passed his master as if to encourage him in
his labors. "This will never do!" said Tom, pausing and wiping his
forehead; "Grip will spoil everything with his ridiculous barking, and
the whole neighborhood will come to see what is the matter. Here,
Grip! Here, this minute! Very well, sir! _ver-y_ well! _ex-treme-ly_
well! You'd better come, sir! You'd _bet-ter_,--oh! you're coming, are
you? There! get into that tub, sir, and don't let me see you so much
as wag your tail without permission!"

So Grip sat mournfully _in his_ tub, and watched the work in silence,
resting his nose on the side, and blinking his eyes at every fresh
shovel-full of earth. The sun shone out warmly, and the laborers felt
the perspiration on their heated faces. Gem was the first to drop her
shovel. "Oh, Tom!" she said, wiping her forehead, "my hands are all