Preston lingered at the wood-shed and about the tiny station of Bremen all that morning and most of the afternoon. It was a very solitary place, and he had ample time for reflection.

"Well, this is one way to take care of your little sister! Anybody'd think I was five years old! I can't stand it to be such a fool! Oh ho! I thought 'twas great fun, didn't I, to make her give up her money and tickets? I wanted to 'take her down,' but now I'm taken down myself, and how do I like it?"

To judge by his clouded face and the stamping he made with his heels, he did not like it at all. "Poor little Flaxie, I know she's rushing round that car and crying! What will she do with herself? She won't get off anywhere? Oh, no, Flaxie isn't such a goose as to get off a car unless there's some sense in it! There's only one goose in the family, and that's Preston Gray. No, she won't get off. And let's see, the conductor will remember her, on account of that cracker. He'll know she did have a ticket, so of course he'll let her go free. She'll do well enough. She'll make friends on the cars; she's always making friends, she's so pretty and sweet."

In this way, by praising his sister and scolding himself, Preston tried to find a little consolation as he strode up and down the narrow sleigh-track—which the people of Bremen called a road. What he ought to do he could not decide.

After a while a man came along the road, dragging a pail of flour on a sled. "Do you know how far it is to Hilltop, sir?" asked Preston, feeling himself very young and small, for the man stared at him as if he considered him a mere baby, and thought of taking him up pickaback.

"Hilltop, did you ask? Why, where are your folks? Where did you come from, travelling round here alone?"

"Oh, I came from Laurel Grove, just the other side of Rosewood," replied Preston, as dignified as a boy can be who feels himself crushed to the earth by unmerited contempt. "I got off the cars a few minutes ago, and—and—thought I'd wait for the next train. When does the next train go?"

"Well, it beats me to guess what you got off the cars for!" said this very disrespectful man, setting one foot on the sled and eying Preston all over. "You hadn't ought to get off the cars, sonny, it ain't safe; children get their necks broke that way."

"Can you tell me how far it is to Hilltop?" asked Preston, with an increase of dignity.

"Well, it's a good fifty miles or more, and you can't go till five o'clock this afternoon. You'd better speak to the folks that live in that red house yonder, and ask 'em to see you safe on board the cars, and when you once get on, you stick there! Don't you get off this side of Hilltop. Now mind, little shaver!" And with this very cutting advice and another disrespectful stare, the man toiled on with his sled and the pail of flour.

"I hope he was impolite enough," thought Preston, indignantly. He did not relish being looked down upon. Neither had Flaxie relished it, you remember. "So I can't get to Hilltop till evening. A pretty piece of work! They'll be just rising from the supper-table, Flaxie and all; and won't they have a jolly time laughing at me? They'll ask what I came for at that time of day? Freddy'll call me a caterpillar and a snail, and everything else he can think of. No, sir, you don't catch me going to Hilltop to be laughed at! All I went for in the first place was to take care of Flaxie. No fun in it now. No use, either! Guess I'll go home. But what shall I do with the check and the purse and the key? Oh, Flaxie, I wish I'd let you alone."

While he was lamenting in this strain, he became conscious of a pair of sorrowful eyes raised to his face. They were the eyes of a thin and unhappy-looking but handsome black and white spaniel. It was a tender, respectful gaze; and to a boy who has just felt himself looked down upon, it is consoling to be looked up to, even by a dog.

"Here, Rover, Rover, good fellow! Here, Rover," said he, softly patting the shaggy head.

There was a magical charm for all animals in Preston's touch; and this poor creature crouched before him with a mournful, loving whine, got in front of him as he moved about, sat down at his feet and licked his boots when he stood still, and behaved altogether as if he had found a dear friend.

"I can't think what you mean, Rover. There, that's your name, I know by the way you wag your tail! But, Rover, you never saw me before. What makes you think you know me?"

The handsome animal whined again at the sound of Preston's voice, pushing his nose into the boy's hand, and going off into a sort of dog-ecstasy. It was really quite touching. All the more so as there was something in the curl of his tail, the droop of his ears, that suggested to Preston his own lost dog, the beloved and ever-lamented Tantra Bogus.

"Tantra Bogus was larger and sleeker and fatter, but he had the same white spot in his forehead and his eyes were the same color," said Preston, his heart stirred with tender memories, as he stooped and laid his cheek lovingly against the rough black face.

"Ah, Rover, you do love me! But I can't see why! I guessed your name, and I'll warrant I can guess who your master is, too. It's that impudent man with the sled. Because, sir, you've been half starved, and he's just the man to starve a dog."

There was a crunching sound in the snow, and Preston looked up, half expecting to see the "impudent man" again; but this time it was a lady. Certainly they had strange people in Bremen, for this lady was the ugliest being he had ever seen. Large, half-open lips, big red nose, small red eyes. But he did not forget to raise his cap respectfully.

"Dear old Rover, I'm glad he's found a friend at last," said the lady to Preston, in the sweetest tones. "He lost his master three weeks ago, and mourns him so much that it is very pitiful. He won't stay in the house with his master's family, but lingers about this shed day and night."

"Poor fellow, poor fellow," said Preston; and the dog capered about him, going out of his head again with rapture.

"Yes," said the lady, setting down a little bundle in the snow, and weaving the silver pin more securely into her shawl, "you are the very first person Rover has cared for, or taken the least notice of. The family are afraid he will starve to death. There, now! I have an idea! But perhaps you are in a hurry?" added she, with a particularly sweet smile. It was surprising how an ugly mouth like hers could smile so agreeably.

"No, ma'am, no hurry. I've got to wait seven hours. Going to—going to—"

Here Preston's words were lost in an indistinct muttering, his mouth being pretty close to Rover's nose.

"Then if you'll wait here a few minutes I'll bring Rover something to eat. They'll all be so glad; and perhaps he'll take it from you, though he won't from any one else."

Observe, she did not address Preston as "sonny," or call him a "shaver." She did not even say "my boy" or "my child" or "my dear," or ask him any embarrassing questions.

He was convinced that she was a perfect lady, and answered briskly,—

"Oh, do bring him a piece of meat, ma'am! You see I can wait, for I'm going to—"

But not knowing whether to say Hilltop or Laurel Grove, he prudently left the sentence unfinished.

The lady hastened to the red house near by, and Preston, still caressing the dog, watched her as she returned with a light step, bearing a plate of meat in her hand. There was something very interesting about her homeliness; he could not help looking at her face, and the more he looked the better he liked it.

"This is nice roast beef, a real Thanksgiving dinner, Rover," said she, with loving good-will. "Do eat it and make me happy."

As if he were grateful, and really anxious to please her, this dog, who had so long refused his food, thrust his nose immediately into the heaped-up plate before him and began to eat. If Preston moved away, however, he stopped, turned about, and followed him uneasily.

"It is very plain that the charm lies in you," said the lady, smiling, as Preston patted Rover's head, and he began to eat again.

It had been dreadful, she said, to see him pining away, and to hear him moaning day and night. Mrs. Danforth, his master's widow, could hardly bear it, and her son, who lived with her, had declared that Rover must be taken out of town and given to a new master or he would surely die of grief.

"Now look here, ma'am," cried Preston, looking up with sudden animation, "why couldn't he go home with me? I've lost my dog. Why couldn't he go home with me and be my dog, you know?"

"I don't see why not, if you would like him. I know Mr. Danforth would be glad to give him up to a boy so kind as you are. Where do you live?"

"At Laurel Grove, ma'am." And feeling a growing desire to stand well in the lady's esteem, he tried to explain the situation.

"But I—perhaps I sha'n't go home—that is, not to-day. I didn't know what I should do. I stopped here on the way. I hadn't decided, you know," said he, vaguely.

The lady looked at him in some surprise. Perhaps she doubted whether he could be trusted with a dog. But she did not say anything like that. "Do you live at Laurel Grove? Why, that is just where I am going. I came from Hilltop yesterday to visit the Danforths on my way, and I'm going to Laurel Grove to-day, to Dr. Gray's."

"Why, Dr. Gray is my father! And now I know who you are. You're Miss Pike! I might have known it was you," he went on, thinking aloud, "for you look just as I expected you would."

He could not dream how this little speech hurt Miss Pike. She had moved forward to shake hands with him, but at his last words her cheeks flushed and she drew back again. Was she thinking that very likely he had heard her called "that homely Miss Pike?"

But the next moment she smiled pleasantly, holding out her hand.

"And now I know who you are. You're Master Preston Gray. 'I might have known it was you, for you look just as I expected you would!'"

"Oh, Flaxie told you I wore spectacles, didn't she?" Preston was somewhat sensitive about those. "I have to wear them, for if I take them off I'm blind almost," said he by way of apology.

"Yes, I know, you dear blessed boy! Your sister has told me, and all the Allen family have told me, too, how patient you've been. I'm so glad I've met you, Master Preston. And now what shall I say to your father when I shall see him to-day?"

The boy looked up, and then he looked down. "Oh, are you going to see my father to-day?"

"Yes, I shall start at three o'clock this afternoon in the baggage-car. I'm told there's no passenger-car, and I must go as baggage, or wait till six o'clock to-morrow morning, and I don't like to start so early as that, should you?"

"No, ma'am, I shouldn't; it's pretty dark at six. Look here, Miss Pike, if I take Rover I shall have to take him in the baggage car, sha'n't I?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Well, I've a good mind to take him to-day, if Mr. Danforth will let me. I don't want to go to Hilltop now; it isn't very convenient."

"Ah?" said Miss Pike.

"I didn't care much about going to Hilltop anyway, not now; I only came to take care of my little sister."

"Ah?" said Miss Pike again, with an upward slide to her voice.

"Oh, I suppose you think I didn't take care of her very well. I suppose you think it's sort of queer my being here, but you see—"

Here he struggled so long with something in his throat that she helped him by saying,—

"Oh, possibly you got left."

What a bright, far-seeing woman she was!

"Yes, ma'am, I did get left. That was just how it was. If it had not been for trying to get some sponge-cake—"

"Well, I'm glad you stopped here," broke in the delightful Miss Pike, who seemed to care nothing at all about the little particulars. So good of her not to care! "I'm glad I met you. And as your little sister will not need you any more, couldn't you go home this afternoon to be company for me?—Why, just see, Rover has eaten every bit of his dinner!"

"Oh, I'd like to go with you, ma'am, if I hadn't carried off Flaxie's check and key," demurred Preston. "You see, I took them to keep them safe."

Rather too safe, Miss Pike thought; but she said, without the shadow of a smile, "Why not send the key and check to your sister by mail?"