“You see, we’ve had him a dreadfully long time. Papa and I were taking a walk on a Sunday morning. We ’most always did, for that’s all the time papa had away from his work. And we walked down towards the Harlem River—and what do you _s’pose_, Uncle Joe? A man was carrying Prince—he was just a little puppy, not long got over being blind. And the man was going to drown him!” “Well,” said Mr. Stagg reflectively, still eyeing the dog, “it could not have been his beauty that saved him from a watery grave.” “Oh, uncle! I think he’s real beautiful, even if he is a mongorel,” sighed Carolyn May. “Anyway, papa bought him from the man for a quarter, and Prince has been mine ever since.” Mr. Stagg shook his head doubtfully. Then he went into the office and shut the big ledger into the safe. After locking the safe door, he slipped the key into his trousers pocket, and glanced around the store. “I’d like to know where that useless Gormley boy is now. If I ever happen to want him,” muttered Mr. Stagg, “he ain’t in sight nor sound. And if I don’t want him, he’s right under foot.” “Chet! Hey! you Chet!” To Carolyn May’s amazement and to the utter mystification of Prince, a section of the floor under their feet began to rise. “Oh, mercy me!” squealed the little girl, and she hopped off the trapdoor; but the dog uttered a quick, threatening growl, and put his muzzle to the widening aperture. “Hey! call off that dog!” begged a muffled voice from under the trapdoor. “He’ll eat me up, Mr. Stagg.” “Lie down, Prince!” commanded Carolyn May hastily. “It’s only a boy. You know you _like_ boys, Prince,” she urged. “I sh’d think he did like ’em. Likes to eat ’em, don’t he?” drawled the lanky, flaxen-haired youth who gradually came into view through the opening trap. “Hey, Mr. Stagg, don’t they call dogs ‘man’s cayenne friend’? And there sure is some pep to this one. You got a tight hold on his collar, sissy?” “Come on up out o’ that cellar, Chet. I’m going up to The Corners with my little niece—Hannah’s Car’lyn. This is Chetwood Gormley. If he ever stops growin’ longitudinally, mebbe he’ll be a man some day, and not a giant. You stay right here and tend store while I’m gone, Chet.” Carolyn May could not help feeling some surprise at the finally revealed proportions of Chetwood Gormley. He was lathlike and gawky, with very prominent upper front teeth, which gave a sort of bow-window appearance to his wide mouth. But there was a good-humoured twinkle in the overgrown boy’s shallow eyes; and, if uncouth, he was kind. “I’m proud to know ye, Car’lyn,” he said. He stepped quickly out of the way of Prince when the latter started for the front of the store. “Just whisper to your cayenne friend that I’m one of the family, will you?” “Oh, Prince wouldn’t bite,” laughed the little girl gaily. “Then he’s got a lot of perfectly useless teeth, hasn’t he?” suggested Chetwood. “Oh, no——” commenced the little girl.