"It _did_ happen with every other one you ever had," Florence urged plaintively. "He chased 'em every last one off the place, and they never came back. You know perfectly well, Aunt Julia, grandpa's just bound to hate this dog, and you know just exactly how he'll act about him." "No, I don't," said Julia. "Not just _exactly_." "Well, anyway, you know he'll behave awful." "It's probable," the aunt admitted. "He always does," Florence continued. "He behaves awful about everything I ever heard about. He----" "I'll go pretty far with you, Florence," Julia interposed, "but we'd better leave him a loophole. You know he's a constant attendant at church and contributes liberally to many good causes." "Oh, you know what I mean! I mean he always acts horrable about anything pleasant. Of course I know he's a _good_ man, and everything; I just mean the way he behaves is perfeckly disgusting. So what's the use your not givin' me this dog? You won't have him yourself as soon as grandpa comes home to lunch in an hour or so." "Oh, yes, I will!" "Grandpa hasn't already seen him, has he?" "No." "Then what makes you say----" "He isn't coming home to lunch. He won't be home till five o'clock this afternoon." "Well, then, about six you won't have any dog, and poor little Gammire'll get run over by an automobile some time this very evening!" Florence's voice became anguished in the stress of her appeal. "Aunt Julia, _won't_ you give me this dog?" Julia shook her head. "Won't you, _please_?" "No, dear." "Aunt Julia, if it was Noble Dill gave you this dog----" "Florence!" her aunt exclaimed. "What in the world makes you imagine such absurd things? Poor Mr. Dill!" "Well, if it was, I think you ought to give Gammire to me because I _like_ Noble Dill, and I----" But here her aunt laughed again and looked at her with some curiosity. "You still do?" she asked. "What for?" "Well," said Florence, swallowing, "he may be rather smallish for a man, but he's very uncouth and distingrished-looking, and I think he doesn't get to enjoy himself much. Grandpa talks about him so torrably and--and----" Here, such was the unexpected depth of her feeling that she choked, whereupon her aunt, overcome with laughter, but nevertheless somewhat touched, sprang up and threw two pretty arms about her charmingly. "You _funny_ Florence!" she cried. "Then will you give me Gammire?" Florence asked instantly. "No. We'll bring him in the house now, and you can stay for lunch." Florence was imperfectly consoled, but she had a thought that brightened her a little. "Well, there'll be an awful time when grandpa comes home this afternoon--but it certainly will be inter'sting!"