"He is very kind indeed, but if I am expected to write and thank him, I would much rather not receive it." "Do you dislike him?" "How could I dislike my mother's best friend? I daresay he has a good heart--of course he must have; but whenever I think of him I feel a queer chill creep to my very finger-tips, as if the north wind blew hard upon me, or an iceberg sailed by." "Guess what he sent you." "A copybook, pen, and ink?" "He is too polished a gentleman to punish you so severely. Come and let me show you his gift." He led the way to the gallery at the rear of the house, and here they found Mr. Hargrove and Mrs. Lindsay admiring a young Newfoundland dog, which was chained to the balusters. "Look, Regina! it is a waddling snow-bank! So round, so soft and white! Did he come from Nova Zembla, or Hammerfest, or directly from 'Greenland's icy mountains'?" "Mr. Palma looked all over New York and Brooklyn before he found a pure white dog to suit him. It seems he knew Regina's fondness for snowy pets, and this is the only Newfoundland I have ever seen who had not even a dark hair. Mr. Palma put this handsome collar and chain upon him, and asked me to bring him to Regina. He will be very large when grown; now he is only a few months old." Regina softly patted the woolly head, and her eyes glistened with delight. "How did Mr. Palma guess that I wanted a dog?" "He requested me to suggest something that would please you, and I told him that all at the parsonage were grieving over the death of poor old Bioern. He immediately decided to send you a dog, and this is a noble sagacious creature." "What is his name?" "That is left entirely to your taste; but I hope you will not go all the way to Greece to find a title, as you did for your classic gander." "Then I will call him whatever Mr. Hargrove likes best." As she spoke Regina nestled her fingers into the pastor's hand, and he smiled down into her radiant face. "My dear child, exercise your own preference. Have you no choice?" "None." "Suppose you name him 'Erl-King' in compliment to Mr. Palma?" "I should never dare to call him that; it would seem impertinent. He is such a splendid dog, I should like a fine, uncommon, grand name out of some of Mr. Hargrove's learned books." "Oh don't, Regina! It will be positively cruel to turn Peyton loose among his folios, and invite him to afflict that innocent orphaned brute with some dreadful seven-syllabled abomination, which he will convince you is Arabic, or Sanscrit, classic or mediaeval, Gaelic, Finnish or Norse, but which I warn you will serve your jaws (more elegant form--'maxillary bones') very much as an attack of mumps would, and will torture the victim into hydrophobia. Be pitiful, and say Teazer, Tiger, Towser, but don't throw the sublime nomenclature of the classics literally to the dogs!"