Mossoo was not so indifferent; he had watched the whole affair, and if he did not understand why the baby cried, at least he knew she was in trouble. True he had not seen a stick used, but here was the same result. He went and sat down near her, and wagged his tail to show he sympathised, but as she was lying on her face she did not even know he was there, and the sobs continued. Finding this, Mossoo sat for some time with his tongue hanging out, uncertain how to proceed, but presently noticing a little bit of bare fat neck he gave it a gentle lick. Baby turned her head; there were two bright eyes with pink rims close to her, and a ragged fringe of dirty-white hair, and a red tongue lolling out; she was so startled at this that she screamed louder than ever, and hid her face again. Unsuccessful, but full of zeal and compassion, the poodle next bethought himself of finding her a stick or a stone to throw for him; Bennie was never tired of playing this game with him, and perhaps the baby might like it too. He ran sniffing about with his nose to the ground, and presently caught sight of something that glistened, lying in the grass near the cart. It was the little clog. Quite unconscious of making a lucky hit, he took it in his mouth, carried it to her, and placed it with gentle care close to her ear. This time Mossoo had done the right thing, for when she saw what he had brought, a watery little smile gleamed through baby's tears, her sobs ceased, she sat up and seized the clog triumphantly. Waving it about in her small uncertain hands, she hit the friendly poodle smartly on the nose with it as he stood near; then leaning forward, grasped his drooping moustache and pulled it, which hurt him still more; but he did not cease to wag his tail with pleasure at his success. From that day "Mossy," as she called the dog, was added to the number of baby's friends--the other two were Bennie and the little clog. To this last she confided, in language of her own, much that no one else understood, and Seraminta did not again attempt to take it from her. She was thankful that the child had something to soothe her in the stormy fits of crying which came when she was offended or thwarted in her will. At such times she would kick and struggle until her little strength was exhausted, and at last drop off to sleep with the clog cuddled up to her breast. Seraminta began to feel doubtful as to the advantages of her theft, and Perrin, the gypsy man, swore at his wife and reproached her in the strongest language for having brought the child away. "I tell you what, my gal," he said one day, "the proper place for that child's the house, an' that's where she'll go soon as I git a chance. She've the sperrit of a duchess an' as 'orty in her ways as a queen. She'll never be no good to us in our line o' bizness, an' I'm not agoin' to keep her."