“But noo,” she continued, trying to make her voice sound cheery, “he’s come, and to the favour of your loosing him I’m minded to ask another. As you know dogs’ ways, little leddie, will ye take him with ye, and give him his keep his life out? It’ll not be long, for he’s turning ten, and has’na had a full stomach these last years. Will ye, leddie? I’m sorrowful not to gi’ him free o’ the tax, but it’s the first and last favour Jane Carr asks o’ any one. Ye will. God bless you, child! Now to-morrow the old ‘Herb Witch’ will move on.” It was all Anne could do to keep from breaking down and crying aloud. Miss Letty did not even try, and Elsa Willoughby wiped her eyes hastily, forgetting that she had used her handkerchief that morning to cleanse her paint-brushes. So interested had they all been that an hour passed unnoticed, and with it the storm. “But,”--stammered Anne, trying to steady her voice, “where is the sick puppy? Don’t you want us to take that too?” “You’d best take it, certy; but it’s not mine, and you may likely seek out the owner, for it’s a well-favoured little hussy, and affectionsome, though flighty, if I make no mistake. Ten days back Laddie came in barking and making signs for me to follow, for he has speech, has Laddie, or I mistake.” “So has Waddles,” said Anne, sympathetically. “Weel, I hobbled down the lane length to where the old fence lies that’s bound with that fearsome wire.” “We know that fence,” said the girls, so completely in chorus that a smile actually wrinkled the old woman’s features. “A rod farther down Laddie led me, and then stood still. Before him was a little animal meshed in the wire. I thought it a rabbit; next I saw it was a pup that like had been chased by a wild cat,--oh, yes, there’s a few here yet,--and held by the barbs. I unloosed the pup, Laddie a-givin’ me orders all the while.” “Just like Waddles,” ejaculated Anne again. “I took the wee thing home and washed its wounds with herbs I well know the worth of, and now it hardly shows a scar. I’ve kept it close, mostly in the bedroom yonder, for fear those who bear me ill might say I stole it, and lay hands on it and keep it from its lawful owners, and work me worse ill, for it’s as fine a little she beagle as ever my eyes lit on, and I’ve seen many in the old land.” “Beagle,” said Anne and Miss Letty together, as Jane Carr threw open the door of a small room which was nearly filled by a large bed with a blue and white spread. Upon this bed, with her head resting comfortably on the only pillow, lay Jill Waddles! Anne fell upon Jill and hugged her, for it was a relief to feel that the little creature had not starved to death, in spite of her ungrateful behaviour. But Jill merely yawned, jumped down from the bed, ambled about prettily with her head on one side, but retired under the old woman’s skirt when Anne tried to take her up.