only one left. Mr. Robinson says his man doesn't understand
raising pups without their mothers, and as he is going away, he
wants us to have it, for we always had such luck in nursing sick
animals."

Mr. Robinson I knew was a friend of the Morrises and a gentleman
who was fond of fancy stock, and imported a great deal of it from
England. If this puppy came from him, it was sure to be good one.

Miss Laura took the tiny creature, and went upstairs very
thoughtfully. I followed her, and watched her get a little basket and
line it with cotton wool. She put the puppy in it and looked at him.
Though it was midsummer and the house seemed very warm to
me, the little creature was shivering, and making a low murmuring
noise. She pulled the wool all over him and put the window down,
and set his basket in the sun.

Then she went to the kitchen and got some warm milk. She dipped
her finger in it, and offered it to the puppy, but he went nosing
about it in a stupid way, and wouldn't touch it. "Too young," Miss
Laura said. She got a little piece of muslin, put some bread in it,
tied a string round it, and dipped it in the milk. When she put this
to the puppy's mouth, he sucked it greedily. He acted as if he was
starving, but Miss Laura only let him have a little.

Every few hours for the rest of the day, she gave him some more
milk, and I heard the boys say that for many nights she got up once
or twice and heated milk over a lamp for him. One night the milk
got cold before he took it, and he swelled up and became so ill that
Miss Laura had to rouse her mother and get some hot water to