And they've sent us a Teddy-Bear. I
think I'll ship him back and get a grown one. What sort of use
is--?"
"He is going to be all those things," eagerly prophesied the
Mistress. "And a hundred more. See how he loves to have me pet
him! And, look--he's learned, already, to shake hands; and--"
"Fine!" applauded the Master. "So when it comes our turn to be
visited by this motor-Raffles, the puppy will shake hands with
him, and register love of petting; and the burly marauder will be
so touched by Lad's friendliness that he'll not only spare our
house but lead an upright life ever after. I--"
"Don't send him back!" she pleaded. "He'll grow up, soon, and--"
"And if only the courteous burglars will wait till he's a couple
of years old," suggested the Master, "he--"
Set gently on the floor by the Mistress, Laddie had crossed to
where the Master stood. The man, glancing down, met the puppy's
gaze. For an instant he scowled at the miniature watchdog, so
ludicrously different from the ferocious brute he had expected.
Then,--for some queer reason,--he stooped and ran his hand
roughly over the tawny coat, letting it rest at last on the
shapely head that did not flinch or wriggle at his touch.
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