Very slowly the big shaggy creature sprawled himself out on the soft wool, but he only stayed sprawled for a few moments. The next, he got up, took a corner of the rug between his teeth, dragged it over to the show gas-range and, in a dog's way, proceeded to make his own bed. Every one was watching him and every one laughed. "He can do tricks," Ted declared proudly. "I'm goin' to train him for a lot of things. He could almost do anything," the boy added, whereat even Miss Manners laughed softly. But Nero was settled at last, and so far as he was concerned, gave no further trouble to the Brandon family for that evening. The subject of the buzzing, egg-beater noise in the chimney, coupled with Mr. Sanders leaving the grounds so suspiciously that afternoon was, however, discussed most thoroughly. Even to the children Mrs. Brandon's confidence in Mr. Sanders, agreeing as it did with the confidence of so many other grown folks, gave cause for much curious speculation. Nancy pretended that she disagreed with this general sentiment, but that was only because she felt there was a certain injustice in the manner of Mr. Sanders assuming rights over their personal property. Ted, on the contrary, was ready to vote for Mr. Sanders at every opportunity, and while he didn't exactly say that Nero had at one time belonged to the people who had lived in the big stone house, he _did_ say that Lou Peters, who gave him Nero, said that the Giffords, who belonged on the hill, used to feed Nero regularly at their back door. That was as near to proprietorship as Ted could bring Nero. Lou Peters had been keeping him among the old boxes, so he gave him to Ted. All of which followed a natural sequence, for Ted himself had been feeding Nero dog biscuits and soup bones for a long time previously. "Isn't it queer how jolly it seems to have a dog in the house," remarked the boy, who was curled up on the couch and hugging a big story book from which, tonight at least, he read very little. "It does seem as if we have pleasant company," Miss Manners conceded agreeably. She was, as usual, at her fancy work--some exquisitely fine linen drawn work, being done for a city customer. "But I thought we all agreed never again to become attached to a dog," recalled the mother. She was making notes and reading a book--a librarian's method of reviewing. "We all felt so dreadfully when Grumpy died," Nancy recalled. She sighed effectively at the recollection. "Grumpy was the loveliest dog--" "So is Nero," affirmed the fickle Ted. "In some ways he's a lot smarter. You should have seen him do tricks for Lou Peters. He'll do them for me, too," professed the youngster, "as soon as we get better acquainted." "Oh, Ted," digressed Nancy. "I've been wanting to ask you. Did Billy and Jack make out all right at home after their cave-in scare? Their folks weren't angry, were they?"