the gentle, solemn courtesy of a Spanish grandee, which the Pirate
may or may not have been. He was full of charm of manner, and
combined a spirit of fearless loving-kindness to all the world with
an inability to see why he shouldn't always have his own way; which
made him difficult to manage.

"You goin' to chain me up, Mother?" he inquired affectionately,
nestling up to her.

"Yes," explained his mother, hardening her heart, "little boys who run
away from home like little dogs have to be treated like little dogs."

"Oh, _I'll_ be a little dog," replied Philip, entering
agreeably into the idea, and backing up to be chained. "No, I'll be
a big dog. I'll run around an' jerk my chain an' say 'Woof! Woof!'
like the Hewitts' setter. And Foxy 'n I'll have bones together!" His
small Velasquez face lighted rapturously at the prospect. "Here,
Foxy, Foxy!"

The black French bull whose chain Philip was using dashed up at the
summons. He was middle-aged, but he had a young heart still, and his
tail vibrated madly as he bounded between Phyllis and her son.

"Oh, he's _got_ a bone!" exclaimed Philip, gleefully dropping
on all fours.

Phyllis stood up from chaining her child, and turned appealingly to
her husband, coming down the steps of the little bungalow with
two-and-a-half-year-old Angela on his shoulder.