The next Friday noon Miss Minnie told Carolyn May she could bring Prince to school with her—of course, on his leash. By this time all the other pupils had learned that, even if he did look savage, Prince was quite as gentle and friendly as little Carolyn May herself, and they had ceased to be afraid of him. The afternoon session closed at the usual recess time, and then it was that Miss Minnie presented the new collar to Prince, with, as Mr. Brady, the trustee, would have said, “a few appropriate words.” The big girl invented another verse in imitation of “Mary’s Little Lamb,” and recited it: “‘_What makes Prince love Car’lyn so?’ The little children cry. ‘Why, Car’lyn loves the dog, you know,’ The teacher doth reply._” “Oh, dear me!” sighed Carolyn May happily. “It’s just like a party—a birthday party. We never celebrated Prince’s birthday before, or gave him any kind of party. But I _know_ he enjoys it.” He certainly did seem to appreciate the honour, and bore himself proudly with the new green collar around his neck. Uncle Joe attached his S.P.C.A. license tag to it, which jingled like a bangle. Carolyn May was glad to see Uncle Joe do this. Everything that Uncle Joe did which showed he thought of something besides his business pleased his little niece. “You see,” she told Aunty Rose, “I know Uncle Joe doesn’t _look up_ enough. Whenever I’m in his store I almost always see him at his desk working at that great big book in which he keeps his accounts. “Chet Gormley says he always is at it—Sundays, too. You know, Aunty Rose, he walks down to the store every Sunday after dinner and stays till supper time.” “I know it, child,” the housekeeper agreed. “Joseph Stagg is completely wrapped up in his business.” “Yes. My papa had to work hard, and awful long hours, too. But when he was away from the newspaper office he said he always left business behind him. He looked up at the sky and listened to the birds sing. Leastways,” said Carolyn May honestly, “he listened to the sparrows quarrel. There weren’t many other birds on our block, ’cept a parrot; and he scolded awfully.” At any rate, she was quite sure that Uncle Joe ought to be interested in something besides his hardware store. She thought about this a good deal. And, finally, she laid an innocent little trap for him. Of one tenet of the Friends’ belief Aunty Rose was thoroughly convinced: no cooking went on in the Stagg kitchen after breakfast on the Sabbath. Of course, they had dinner, but save for hot tea or coffee or soup the viands at that meal and at supper were cold. Sometimes during the warm weather there were heaps of Aunty Rose’s flaky-crusted apple turnovers, baked the day before, to crumble into bowls of creamy milk, or there were piles of lovely sandwiches and eggs with mayonnaise, and suchlike delicacies.