truth. It was a very long way. They went on and on, down long, quiet suburban streets, lined with dripping trees and houses with no signs of life. They went on and on. 

At first Leroy was talkative and cheerful, and found great satisfaction in splashing in puddles, but as time went on he grew silent, and tramped through the puddles more as a matter of principle than through enjoyment.

“What was the name of the street?” asked Anderson. “Well, I don’t know,” the boy answered, “but I guess I’d know it if I saw it. Somewheres around here, it was. Might be around the next corner.” 

They went round the corner, and there was a candy store. “That’s it!” Leroy announced. “It’s open, too.” Mr. Anderson said nothing, but walked steadily forward, and Leroy trotted by his side. 

“They sure did have good lollypops in there,” observed Leroy. “Best I ever tasted.” Still no response from the adult, possessor of all power and wealth. Leroy sighed. And Anderson turned to look at him, and discovered a wet and not very clean face upturned to his, with brown eyes very like Sandy’s. Poor little kid, tramping along so bravely in his oilskins! He looked tired, too. 

“All right!” said Anderson. “We’d better go back and get a few lollypops.” After that Leroy went on, much encouraged in spirit. 

“Here’s the street!” he cried at last. “The lil dog ran out o’ one of those houses—I don’t know which one.” Mr. Anderson rang the bell of the first house. The occupants owned no dog, never had, and never intended so to do. In the second house he was confronted by a very disagreeable old lady. She admitted that she had a dog, and she said, with unction, that her dog could and would bite any persons unlawfully trespassing on her property, as was any dog’s right. 

“I dare say Rover did bite the boy,” she suggested, “if he came in here trampling and stampling all over my flower beds. And serve him right, I say!” “I did not!” said Leroy, indignantly. “And that’s not the dog, Mr. Anderson. I can see him out the window. He’s a police dog, and my dog was a little one.” They proceeded to the next house. Nobody came to the door at all. There was only one more house left on the street. 

“Well, I hope the right dog’s in there,” said Leroy, “but—” He paused, then he laid his hand on Anderson’s sleeve. “Most any lil dog would do, for her.” Mr. Anderson was about to protest sternly against such a dishonest and immoral suggestion, but somehow he didn’t. 

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