evening!” said Mrs. Granger and Captain MacGregor in unison. She let him go! He opened the front door and stepped out into the rain again, and never in his life had he felt so bitter, so disappointed, so cruelly, intolerably depressed. After all he had done, she let him go like this! Not even a word of thanks. Poor little doggie, eh?Halfway down the path he heard a shout; it was Leroy, rushing after him bareheaded through the rain.

“Say!” he shouted. “You’re—”

Words failed him, and he stretched out his hand, a rough, warm little hand, wet from the rain, sticky from lollypops. Yet Anderson was very glad to clasp it tight.

“Good-by, old fellow!” he said.

“Good-by, old fellow, yourself!” answered Leroy.

And he sat on the gatepost, watching, and waving his hand as Anderson went down the road in the rainy dusk.

Mr. Anderson had finished with women forever. And this resolve gave to his face a new and not unbecoming sternness; the old ladies noticed it directly he entered the dining room that evening. Miss Selby noticed it, too, but pretended not to; she smiled that same chilly, polite smile, and said never a word—neither did he.

Supper was set before them, and they began to eat, still silent. And then she spoke suddenly.

“What’s the matter with your hand, Mr. Anderson?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing; thanks!” he answered.

Again a silence. But she could not keep her eyes off that clumsily-tied bandage on his hand.

“I wish you’d tell me!” she said.

It was an entirely different tone, but he was no longer to be trifled with like that. He smiled, coldly.

“No doubt you’ll be very much amused,” he remarked, “to learn that I’ve been bitten by a dog!”

He waited.

“Why don’t you laugh, Miss Selby?” he inquired. “It’s funny enough, isn’t it? After I said that dogs always know. It’s what you might call ‘biting irony,’ isn’t it?”

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