Tray's devious path took him in the direction of "Robinson's," in the windows of which the golden brown of sable furs, the silver gray of rare foxes', and the commoner dim blue of long-haired goats', were beginning to enrich the usual display of silk and woollen goods. Following his own sweet will, Tray, considerably in advance of his companions, darted into the shop. "Oh, what shall we do, May?" cried Dora in dismay; "you ought really to put that dog in a leash when he _will_ go into the town." "Better say a chain at once," answered May indignantly, vexed by the imputation on her pet. "I am sure he has been as good as gold to-day. He has not chased a single thing, and he has only once run away from us. Couldn't I go in and fetch him out? I should not stay above a minute." "And I am to wait at the door while you hunt him round all the counters and through the showrooms? I had much rather go in with you; but neither do I care to enter the shop when I do not wish to buy anything. Really Tray is too troublesome!" "Oh! don't say that," exclaimed May in distress. "Don't reflect on him in case anything should happen to him," as if Dora's speech were likely to bring down the vengeance of Heaven on the heads of all three. "He soon finds out all he wants when he goes on private expeditions, and then he runs back and looks for us. I think if we walked _very_ slowly his dear bright face, with one ear cocked up, would appear in the doorway by the time we reached it." "Or some shop-lad may ask him what his business is, and turn him out. It will be a lesson for him in future," said Dora, severely.