the lawn, and one doll’s dress would need some of Nathalie's most careful mending hefore it was fit to return to its rightful owner.
Letters from Nathalie's friends at the sca-
shore or in the country excited no envy in her.
What were the delights of bathing and hoating
compared with caring for Prinnie and teaching
him new tricks?
“NATHALIE’S DOLL FAMILY WAS QUITE NEGLECTED THAT SUMMER.”
He would bark prettily for a lump of sugar: he could sneeze most entrancingly for any dainty. But Nathalie remembered Mr. McAllister's advice, and did not allow him many. She had to content herself with very little candy, for Prinnie would beg so bewitchingly for a share that it was hard not to spoil him.
She carried him dutifully down to sec his master, but some way or other, although Mr. McAllister was very kind and praised her care, it always made her feel a little sad to go there.
And so the long summer days slipped on. Nathalie was brown and rosy, Prinnie sleek and bright-eyed. July, August had gone; now September was here, and in a few days, Nathalie's little friends would come back and enter school. She would be glad to see them, but—
“When is fall?” she asked her father that evening at supper.
“Oh, fall has really begun now.” he replied.
The fall was really here, and she must—that dreadful man who had ordered Prinnie would want— The thought was too dreadful to finish. She ought to take him back at once, take Prinnie back—her pet—Prinnie, whose rough, pink tongue had awakened her every morning—whose daily meal she had carefully prepared. Prinnie, who had been her companion every minute for two long months.
She was moody and silent all the next day. She did not dare walk by Mr. McAllister's board fence.
In the evening, the blow fell. Her father announced at supper, “Mr. McAllister says the man who owns your dog is coming around for him to-morrow. You can take Prinnie over in the morning.”
Nathalie could not eat any more supper that night. The top of Prinnie’s little head was all wet with salt tears when she laid him in his basket.
The next morning, she arose early. There was much to be done. The blow was a harsh one, but if Prinnie must go, he should go in state. Nathalie washed and ironed Grizzie's white dress and bonnet. Then, after giving Prinnie a careful combing and brushing, she dressed him in these garments for the last time.
With Prinnie clasped tightly in her arms, she sadly set out for Mr. McAllister's. Perhaps the gentleman would not come after all. If only she could keep Prinnie a few days longer! But no, Mr. McAllister was talking to a pleasant-faced stranger. The time had come. Nathalie walked straight up to the strange man, and, struggling to keep down the lump in her throat, she held out Prinnie.
“Here 's—your—d-o-g—s-i-r,” she managed to sob: and the tears fell in torrents.
Prinnie, whom the astonished gentleman had failed to take from Nathalie's outstretched arms, made his customary dash for liberty. While Nathalie was recovering him, Mr. Sampson heard the story from Mr. McAllister.
When Nathalie came up a few minutes later with the struggling Prinnie, the stranger remarked: “My little girl, who, by the way, is a big little girl, has changed her mind about this dog. She wants a large dog, a collie. So here I am with two dogs on my hands, and only room for one. Do you suppose you could persuade your mother to let you keep on taking care of this one as your very own? If so, he is yours.”
