"Let Jack," said Johnnie Jones, "he can shake hands as well as anybody, and he is a visitor to-day."

Miss Page consented, and Johnnie Jones called Jack to the circle and offered him his hand. Jack at once gave him his paw. One by one the children came and shook Jack's paw. Everyone considered it great fun, and Jack enjoyed it also, though he could not laugh as the children did.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Each child came up and shook Jack's paw--]

As soon as all the good-mornings had been sung, Miss Page started a game of ball. Now there was nothing that Jack liked better than playing with a ball, so he ran out on the circle barking, and jumped up on the boy who had the ball in his hand. The boy became frightened, not understanding what Jack wanted, and let the ball fall and roll away.

Jack rushed after it, knocking down chairs and tables, spilling the blocks out of their boxes, and tearing paper chains to bits. At last he caught the ball in his mouth, brought it to Johnnie Jones, and began to jump and bark, begging the little boy to throw it.

Miss Page said that she was sorry, but Jack would have to go home.

"He is a very good dog," she said, "but he does not behave well in kindergarten."

At that moment Sam, the hired man, came into the room. Mrs. Jones had missed Jack and sent Sam to find him. Jack was having a pleasant time and did not want to go home, but he knew how to obey, and, when Johnnie Jones commanded him to "go home," he turned slowly and walked out of the room.

So you see, Jack was turned out by the teacher, just as was Mary's lamb.

One bright day, when the ground was covered with snow, Father took Johnnie Jones for a ride on his sled. They had been around the block only twice when the clock struck two, and then it was time for Father to go to his office.

"Oh! dear," said Johnnie Jones, "now I'll have no one to pull my sled.

I wish Jack could."

"Perhaps he can," Father answered. "When I come home to-night I'll make some sort of a harness for him, and then to-morrow we shall see what he can do."

That evening, with rope, straps, and Johnnie Jones's reins Father made a very good harness, and the next day he hitched Jack to the sled. At first Jack could not imagine what Father and Johnnie Jones wished him to do. He allowed himself to be hitched to the sled, but every time Johnnie Jones sat upon it, and said "Get up," Jack would jump about, and off would roll Johnnie Jones into the snow. Then Jack would bark as much as to say, "What are you trying to do, anyway?"

At last, after many trials, Father managed to hold Jack quiet until Johnnie Jones was seated firmly on the sled, clasping a side with each hand. Then Father, still keeping a tight hold of Jack, ran with him to the corner and back several times. At last Jack began to understand what was expected of him. The next day they tried again, and it was not long before Johnnie Jones could drive the big dog without Father's help.

After a while Jack would even pull Johnnie Jones's sled to kindergarten each morning, and then draw the empty sled home, after Johnnie Jones had gone into the house. He certainly was a clever dog. It was no wonder Johnnie Jones loved him.

In the winter-time there was an excellent place for coasting in the park very near Johnnie Jones's house. There was a long, straight hill, and at the foot of it a long, straight pond, so that, with a good start, a child could coast from the top of the hill to the end of the pond. That is, of course, when there was snow and the pond was frozen over at the same time.

One afternoon Johnnie Jones started out with his sled and Jack ran along beside him.

"Don't try to coast across the pond to-day," called Father. "When I was pa.s.sing I noticed that the ice was broken in several places."

"Then I'll coast on the other side of the hill," Johnnie Jones answered.

When he reached the park, however, he found two of the children coasting across the pond as usual. One of them, whose name was Ned, asked Johnnie Jones: "What's the matter with everybody to-day? Where are the other children?"

"I suppose their fathers wouldn't let them come," answered Johnnie Jones; "and you shouldn't coast across the pond. My father just told me that it isn't safe, because the ice is beginning to break."

"Oh! it is perfectly safe," Ned replied, "because we have been over it several times. The coasting is better fun to-day than ever before, and there are no children to block the way. Come and try it."

"I wish I might," Johnnie Jones answered. He sat on his sled and watched the older boys coast safely across, and run gaily back, waving their hands to him.

"Perhaps my father was mistaken." he said after a while. "I think I'll try it just once."

"There is one tolerably large hole," Ned warned him, "but it is on one side, and if you are careful you won't fall in."

"I'll be careful," answered Johnnie Jones; "you sit here and watch me."

He placed himself flat on his sled, and Ned gave him a push. Johnnie Jones was not quite five years old then, two years younger than Ned, and he could not guide his sled very well. When it went near the big hole, he could not turn it away. Then splash! Both Johnnie Jones and the sled plunged into the icy cold water.

The water was not very deep, but as Johnnie Jones struck it head foremost, and as the sled was on top of him, he might have found some trouble in forcing his way out, had it not been for Jack. That faithful friend was close beside his little master, and in just a few seconds had drawn him out of the water.

As soon as Ned and Sammy Smith saw what had happened, they hurried to the house and told Mr. Jones. He ran all the way to the pond, picked up the little wet, cold boy, and carried him home as quickly as possible.

Jack was wet and cold too, but he ran around so fast that he soon grew warm, then he crawled under the kitchen stove, where he stopped until he was dry. But Johnnie Jones had to go to bed, for several days, with a very bad cold.

He was sorry he had been disobedient, and asked Father please to excuse him that time. Father said he would not punish him, but that he was sorry to think his little boy did not trust his father.

"I do, Father," Johnnie Jones answered, "and after this I'll obey you, instead of minding little boys."

"Grown people generally know best," Father said.

After that, of course, Mother, Father and Johnnie Jones loved good old Jack more than ever, and were glad they had kept him when he first came to them a puppy, hurt and hungry.

Stiggins

Johnnie Jones's Aunt Jean owned a dog. His name was Stiggins, just Stiggins, for dogs need only one name, instead of the two or three that people have. Aunt Jean was accustomed to go to Lake Chautauqua every summer, far away from home. Stiggins liked to go with her, and was always afraid that he might be left behind, as had happened, once or twice. So, as soon as he saw Aunt Jean begin to make her preparations, he would spend all his time either following her about, or lying on her trunk.

Each time she started to pack she would first have to drive Stiggins into the yard. If she turned away, just for a few minutes, there he would be again, lying in a tray upon her best dresses, or her prettiest hats. Aunt Jean would scold and scold, but scolding was of no use.

At last, when the day came on which they were to begin their journey, and the trunks had been locked and sent away, Stiggins would run to the stable, jump into the carriage, and there he would stay until he and the family had reached the station.

But when it was time to board the train, Stiggins was most unhappy. He was forced to ride in the baggage car, all alone, and Stiggins liked company. He wished to ride in the sleeping car with Aunt Jean. Of course he could not, because he was only a dog, which was something that Stiggins had never quite understood. He would whimper, and run away, when the coachman attempted to lead him to his proper place, so usually, Aunt Jean had to take him, and to tie him, herself.

Stiggins disliked the long ride on the train and boat, but he was just the happiest dog in the world when at last he reached Chautauqua. When once he was there he had many fine times, bathing in the Lake, going off on long walks and drives with the family, and playing with the dogs.

The house in which Aunt Jean lived was very near the lake, and Stiggins liked to lie on the front porch and watch the children at play by the water's edge. One day, Harry and Sally were there with a small sail-boat attached to a string, which Harry held, as the boat sailed out on the water. Suddenly the string broke, and then there was nothing with which to draw the boat to land.

The children were quite small and did not know what to do. They asked a big boy to wade out and return the boat to them, but he was a lazy boy and told them to throw stones beyond the boat to make it come back of itself. They tried his plan, but were not strong enough to throw the stones very far, and the boat only floated further away.

All this time Stiggins had been lying on the porch watching the children. I am not sure whether he thought they were throwing stones for him to swim after, or whether he saw they were in trouble and wished to help them, but this is what he did. Without a word from anyone, he jumped up, trotted down to the water and waded in. The children and the big boy wondered what he meant to do. Stiggins himself seemed to know very well. He swam straight to the boat, caught it in his mouth, brought it to land, and dropped it at the children's feet. Then he trotted back to the porch.

Harry and Sally thought that Stiggins was the kindest and most polite dog they had ever seen, and the big boy was ashamed, because he thought that a dog had been kinder and more polite than he.

This story is as true as true can be. I know, because Aunt Jean saw the whole affair and she told me about it herself.

When Johnnie Jones was a Santa Claus