Then the baby arrived, and John Tyler began to understand that an awful thing had happened. His wife’s mind was certainly clouded--she was, in country parlance, “not right,” and worst of all she had a mortal hatred for the poor, little new-comer. She could hardly force herself to give it the commonest care, and many a time its wails reached the father beyond the house, and only when he entered would the mother sullenly take the child and care for it. “Watch,” though he was the most active of farm dogs, took in the situation at once, and calmly assumed the position of nurse to the detested baby. Never before had he been known to get on the bed, but now he jumped on it every day and curled himself up beside the little unfortunate, and many a time when she cried he would stand over her and gravely lick her tiny face until she stopped, to stare at him in wonder. He did not wholly neglect his other duties. He saw to the proper watering of the stock, night and morning, taking a few laps of the water himself, as if he were testing it. He led the horses to the field to plow, or to the woods “to haul,” as the case might be, running anxiously ahead to see that the road was clear, and then ambling back to bark at their heels a few times before making a circle about the wagon and trotting underneath it a few minutes, to make quite sure the running gear was all right. Neither did the two eldest of the children succeed in getting to the small creek flowing at the back of the house, without his companionship, though he knew well he would be sent into the water by them for about a peck of chips, after which they were absolutely certain to try to ride him home. Still, it had been his habit to watch the road closely for any traveling dog, at sight of whom he would rush forth with waving tail, and after due investigation of his quality, would either challenge him to mortal combat, or invite him inside the gate to converse about the state of the roads and the scarcity of rabbits, etc. But when the family trouble began, he gave such pleasures up and turned all his attention to his people. So the day came when John Tyler was compelled to go to town, a great city now, but then a struggling, little town on the edge of a marsh. He dared not leave his wife alone with the children, so, with great difficulty, he secured the help of a young girl, for a couple of days, and then with a big load to take and a long list of things to bring back for the winter’s comfort, he started, and was greatly surprised when old, black “Watch,” who always enjoyed his “city” trip so thoroughly, after escorting him with leaps and barks and short rushes at nothing in particular for a half mile, suddenly sat down by the roadside and staid there, regardless of his master’s inviting whistle.