Beth could hardly keep from laughing, but she managed to say sternly:

"January, you ought to be working instead of sleeping."

He wakened with a start. A look of conscious guilt overspread his face.

"My eyes were closed, Missy Beth; dat wuz all. I jes' came in and sot down to comb my hair."

Beth shook her finger at him. "You were snoring."

"Wuz I? Well, I'm powe'ful warm, Missy Beth. Don't yo' tole on me, an' I'll swah nevah to do so agin."

Beth felt it her duty to lecture him a bit.

"You ought to tell things when you do wrong. I do. January, have you seen Fritz?"

"Not since dis mornin', Missy Beth. He wuz down by the river watchin'

a great big 'gator."

She looked apprehensive. "January, do 'gators ever eat dogs?"

"I've heard tell dey do sometimes."

"What would I do if that 'gator has eaten my Fritz!"

Whereupon away she ran, as fast as her little legs could carry her, to the river, calling her beloved dog. But no Fritz came bounding at her call. In fact, he did not return even to supper, nor for breakfast the next morning.

The conviction grew with Beth that Harvey Baker's 'gator had eaten Fritz. Her resentment rose against the boy and his pet, she even shedding some tears of anger and of grief.

Soon after breakfast, a red-eyed little girl started out to give Harvey Baker a piece of her mind. She found him, as usual, on the wharf. He was perfectly unconscious of the storm that was in store for him. In fact, he was in the very act of feeding the 'gator.

"h.e.l.lo, Beth, don't make a noise. I've just whistled for it."

Her eyes snapped. "I just guess I'll make all the noise I want to, so there; and I hope I'll scare the horrid old 'gator away," she concluded, bursting into tears.

Harvey, in his surprise, dropped the meat which he held, and walked over to comfort her. She, however, turned on him like a veritable little shrew.

"Go away, Harvey Baker. I hate both you and your 'gator. That's what makes me cry."

He could not fathom her meaning. He thought, perhaps, she was cross because of the affair of yesterday.

"Was your mamma very angry? Stop crying and I'll go with you and tell her it's----"

"It's not that. Your 'gator----" She could not finish because of sobs. Harvey waited for her tears to subside, but at last grew desperate.

"Can't you tell me what's the matter, Beth?"

"Your horrid old 'gator--it--has eaten--my Fritz."

"I don't believe it."

"My dog's gone and----"

"I'm very sorry, Beth, that Fritz is gone; but I don't believe the 'gator ate him."

"No, you're not sorry. You were just going to feed that horrid beast, and after it had eaten my Fritz, too."

"I didn't know about Fritz; but please don't blame me, Beth, even if the 'gator did eat him." He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

"I want my dog," she said angrily.

"O Beth, only like me again, and I'll promise never to feed the 'gator as long as I live."

She was too grieved over the loss of Fritz to accept any such promise.

Harvey would have searched with her for Fritz, but she was so hurt that she wished to be alone. In fact, she was very cool towards him for many a day thereafter.

A week pa.s.sed; then two, and nothing was heard of Fritz. The feeling grew with Beth that the 'gator really had made way with her pet. She grieved more and more as time pa.s.sed and nothing was heard of her dog.

At first, she was inclined to be very bitter towards Harvey, but she could not hold a grudge long against any one. Then, as she acknowledged, she was not sure the 'gator had eaten Fritz.

One day, about three weeks after the loss of Fritz, Harvey walked into the Davenports' house, leading a handsome, big black dog. The minute that the dog saw Beth, he bounded away from Harvey, and up to her. He licked her hand, and was altogether so affectionate that he won her heart immediately.

"Oh, what a beautiful fellow. Where did you get him? Is he yours, Harvey?"

The boy's eyes were very bright as he answered:

"Well, I guess so. I'll tell you how I happened to get him, and then you can judge for yourself. I was in town day before yesterday, and, while walking along Bay Street, I felt something licking my hand. I looked around, and saw this dog. I had several errands that morning and the dog followed me every place. I simply couldn't get rid of him.

Then I made inquiries to find out who owned him. For a long time n.o.body seemed to know anything about him. Finally I met a man down by the market who said he had seen him come off a Spanish vessel that was in port that morning. I asked the man where the vessel was, and he said it had sailed. Then I asked him what I ought to do about the dog, and he replied that he supposed I might as well keep him. After that, I went to father and told him about the dog and asked what I should do.

He said he would advertise it, and then if n.o.body answered, I might do what I liked with him. We have heard nothing so far of an owner, so it begins to look as if the dog was mine."

"Why haven't you told me before? You have had it two whole days."

"Well, Beth, I didn't want you to know about it until I was sure he was mine. Besides, I'm going to give him away."

Beth's eyes opened wide with astonishment.

"Going to give this lovely dog away! Don't you like him?"

"Yes, but I like the person I'm going to give him to better."

"You must be awfully fond of that person, then." Beth was ashamed to think that she was a little jealous and tried not to show it by her manner.

"I am. Guess to whom I am going to give him."

"I can't."

"To the only nice girl I know, and her name is Beth Davenport."

"Not me?" Her eyes had grown very big.