It was a very exciting story, indeed, that Ted and Nancy poured into their mother’s ears that evening. Had she any possible objections to adopting Nero as the fourth member of the family, they must have been quickly dispelled with the graphic account of that animal’s uncanny intelligence.

“He seemed to know just where to find the outlet to the chimney,” Nancy said, “for he ran directly to the little furnace place, and we didn’t really know it was there ourselves.”

“Of course, he knew,” said Ted importantly. “Dogs know lots of things that we don’t. And he’s going to sleep in the store, isn’t he, Mother?”

“Oh, not in the store, Ted,” objected Nancy. “Do you think that would be just right, Manny?”

“Well, a big dog like that,” demurred Miss Manners, who, now being a real resident of the Brandon home, shared their table with them.

“But he’s had a swim and he’s as clean as—as anything,” floundered the boy, quite unable to summon an appropriate comparison for his great friend. “And Mother, he can watch the whole house for us. How do we know someone wouldn’t try to steal—the secret of the chimney place?”

“It isn’t our secret,” retorted Nancy, “and for my part I can’t see what right Mr. Sanders has around our place at all.”

“You can depend, dear,” said Mrs. Brandon gently, “that whatever he has put in the chimney, if anything, it is something that could in no way bother us. Mr. Sanders is a professor, and the old-fashioned stone oven may have some special interest for him.”

“But couldn’t he ask us about it, if he wanted to—to plant a bomb there?” Nancy remarked, superciliously.

“He’s no gabber,” said Ted, with more wisdom than elegance. “And anyway, maybe he didn’t. But Mother, may I have the old steamer rug to make a bed for Nero? He’s so big he needs a big bed.”

It was finally agreed that Nero should be allowed to sleep in the store before the fireboard, and after much work making the rug into a bed for him, Ted eventually got him to try it.

Very slowly the big shaggy creature sprawled himself out on the soft wool, but he only stayed sprawled for a few moments. The next, he got up, took a corner of the rug between his teeth, dragged it over to the show gas-range and, in a dog’s way, proceeded to make his own bed.

Every one was watching him and every one laughed.

“He can do tricks,” Ted declared proudly. “I’m goin’ to train him for a lot of things. He could almost do anything,” the boy added, whereat even Miss Manners laughed softly.

But Nero was settled at last, and so far as he was concerned, gave no further trouble to the Brandon family for that evening. The subject of the buzzing, egg-beater noise in the chimney, coupled with Mr. Sanders leaving the grounds so suspiciously that afternoon was, however, discussed most thoroughly.

Even to the children Mrs. Brandon’s confidence in Mr. Sanders, agreeing as it did with the confidence of so many other grown folks, gave cause for much curious speculation. Nancy pretended that she disagreed with this general sentiment, but that was only because she felt there was a certain injustice in the manner of Mr. Sanders assuming rights over their personal property.

Ted, on the contrary, was ready to vote for Mr. Sanders at every opportunity, and while he didn’t exactly say that Nero had at one time belonged to the people who had lived in the big stone house, he did say that Lou Peters, who gave him Nero, said that the Giffords, who belonged on the hill, used to feed Nero regularly at their back door. That was as near to proprietorship as Ted could bring Nero. Lou Peters had been keeping him among the old boxes, so he gave him to Ted. All of which followed a natural sequence, for Ted himself had been feeding Nero dog biscuits and soup bones for a long time previously.

“Isn’t it queer how jolly it seems to have a dog in the house,” remarked the boy, who was curled up on the couch and hugging a big story book from which, tonight at least, he read very little.

“It does seem as if we have pleasant company,” Miss Manners conceded agreeably. She was, as usual, at her fancy work—some exquisitely fine linen drawn work, being done for a city customer.

“But I thought we all agreed never again to become attached to a dog,” recalled the mother. She was making notes and reading a book—a librarian’s method of reviewing.

“We all felt so dreadfully when Grumpy died,” Nancy recalled. She sighed effectively at the recollection. “Grumpy was the loveliest dog—”

“So is Nero,” affirmed the fickle Ted. “In some ways he’s a lot smarter. You should have seen him do tricks for Lou Peters. He’ll do them for me, too,” professed the youngster, “as soon as we get better acquainted.”

“Oh, Ted,” digressed Nancy. “I’ve been wanting to ask you. Did Billy and Jack make out all right at home after their cave-in scare? Their folks weren’t angry, were they?”

“Angry!” scoffed Ted. “They each got a quarter for ice cream cones; that’s how angry their mothers were. Jack and Bill are two—pets,” he finished, rather contemptuously. “If they hadn’t been so soft they’d have known how to dig themselves out. Guess I’ll go to bed,” Ted then announced suddenly and surprisingly, for he usually wanted to remain up even longer than the others.

“Now, that Nero is asleep,” teased Nancy. “But never mind, Ted,” she amended. “I’ll give you credit for picking a fine dog. He’s handsomer than a collie, and not so awkward as a St. Bernard,” Nancy commented, rather critically.

“Sure,” agreed Ted. “He’s a thoroughbred,” and with that all-meaning compliment, Ted put his book upon the shelf, looked very carefully in the store so as not to disturb the distinguished occupant, and almost whispered good-night, kissing his mother fondly as he took his actual leave.

“Ted does love that dog,” Nancy remarked indulgently. “And I’m glad you let him keep him, Mother, for Ted likes to wander off alone and a dog is good company for him.”

“The dear little fellow!” murmured his mother. “I can hardly believe he is growing up and becoming able to look after himself. So often during the day, I stop and wonder—”

“Oh, you needn’t, Mums,” interrupted Nancy, “for Manny barely lets him out of her sight without all kinds of cautions. It’s lovely since Manny came,” Nancy concluded, a little shyly.

Following all this each of the three applied herself to her task, (Nancy was reading,) until the clock struck ten, then it appeared time to follow Ted’s example and retire, which they did.

It had to happen, it always does. The dog barked wildly in the very blackest part of the night, and before they realized what had disturbed them, the Brandon household was awake and on its feet!

“What can—it—be?” breathed little Miss Manners, wrapping her neat robe closely around her.

“Why, it’s Nero,” answered Ted foolishly, although he was not trying to be funny. “He’s after someone. We’re safe.”

But Ted’s unlimited confidence in his dog’s power to protect, did not lessen the uncanny feeling produced by the midnight howling, growling bark.

Mrs. Brandon did what she could to assure Nancy and Miss Manners that dogs often bark at almost nothing, but when she heard Nero’s paws scratching against the door that led from the hall into the little group of sleeping rooms, her own courage sagged somewhat.

“Let him in!” ordered Ted. “Here, let me!” he corrected, going to the door and meeting bravely the wild greeting of Nero. “What is it, boy?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

To which question Nero threw his two great paws against Ted’s chest, barked not fiercely, but in that talking way dogs have, and then turned to race back down the stairs.

“It’s no one he’s after,” explained Ted, “or he wouldn’t leave them to come up and tell me. He wants to show me something—”

“Ted Brandon!” cried Nancy. “Don’t you dare go down—”

“I’ll go along,” volunteered Mrs. Brandon. “As Ted says, the dog would have stood guard if any one were trying to get in.”

There was no use in further arguing, for Ted was already close on Nero’s heels, following him to the store whence he was leading. Mrs. Brandon may have been timid, but small Ted’s confidence in his dog was very fortifying, and she, too, fell in with the small midnight procession.

Nancy did not remain upstairs, neither did Miss Manners, for somehow it always does seem safer to “stick together” in that sort of trouble.

No one spoke as they followed the dog. With great dignity he led them on, until, upon reaching the store, he made a pounce over to the corner near the chimney.

“Oh,” screamed Nancy. “It’s that old chimney—”

“It’s something else,” exclaimed Ted. “Just look here! A 'busted’ water pipe. That’s what it is! Look—at—the—flood!”

They all looked, and saw, issuing from a pipe that was connected near the fireplace, a very positive and very menacing stream of water.

“Oh, my! Our things!” groaned Nancy. “I’ve got to turn the water off.”

“But where? How?” asked Mrs. Brandon in confusion, fully realizing the damage water could do.

“I know,” replied Nancy, in her best business-like manner. “I was 'monkeying’ with it the other day. It won’t take me a jiffy,” and while the others patted the intelligent Nero for his alarm, Nancy flew to the kitchen, got a wrench from Ted’s tool chest in the little corner closet, and then with one sure, swift turn, reversed the handle on the water pipe that led from the boiler to the pipes from the cellar.

“It’s off,” yelled Ted. “That’s all right, Nan, it’s stopped.”

“Why, daughter,” exclaimed Mrs. Brandon, still breathless, “how did you know how to do—that?”

“Because—she’s a good plumber,” declared Ted. “Hurrah! Nan! Let’s start a plumbing shop! That’s something you—haven’t tried yet.”

“Ted!” said Nancy sharply. “I don’t like being made fun of. Anybody ought to know how to turn off a water pipe. We all know how to turn off the gas, don’t we?”

“Ted didn’t mean to be rude, dear,” Mrs. Brandon assured the injured one, “but we were so surprised.”

“And Nancy does seem to have such a talent for business,” ventured Miss Manners. “I tell you, dear,” and she gathered her robe around her as she followed the others out of the store, “it is something to be proud of. Any of us can be just housekeepers, but it takes a different sort of ability to be—the man of the house,” she said, which was an unusual figure of speech for prim Miss Manners to make use of.

“She can’t be that,” objected Ted.

“Very well, then,” said Nancy. “Let’s see you mop up that floor, Ted,” she challenged. “That’s a plumber’s job, too,” she pointed out. But it was Mrs. Brandon who found the mop and Ted who used it. Nancy felt perhaps, that the executive part, in turning off the water, was enough for her to have done.

She was hurt, unwillingly, at Ted’s joking remark.

“A plumber shop,” she reflected mentally. “Well, one could do worse, for plumbers are necessary and needle-work fiends aren’t. Maybe I will take up something practical before I find what would be best for me,” she continued to reason.

But none of them knew, nor was it possible for them to guess, what Nero had saved in his timely midnight alarm.