"And what is a dog—a shepherd's dog—but a useful creature, a grateful creature, that might teach a lesson to many of a nobler race?" said the farmer tartly. Macalpine had a face almost as sharp and eyes almost as keen as those of his four footed companion, and his shock of tawny hair was almost as thick and rough as the coat of his faithful Trusty. There was nothing smooth about Farmer Macalpine, as his spoiled nephew found to his cost whenever he and his uncle chanced to be together. Steenie Steers thought himself a very fine fellow indeed; in this, as in many other things, he had formed a very different opinion from that of Farmer Macalpine. Though Steenie was not yet quite twelve years of age, he already put on all the airs of a grown-up fop. Macalpine had found the boy lolling in the only easy-chair in the room of his aunt, Miss Steers, with his silver-tipped cane in his hand; and Steenie had hardly risen to welcome his uncle, though he had not met him for more than a week. "I've come to see your Aunt Elizabeth, Steenie; is she at home?" asked Macalpine. "Aunt Bess—why, no; she's out somewhere," answered the nephew. "I dare say that she's trotted over to the doctor's," he added, in a tone of utter indifference. "Is her head better? How did she sleep last night?" inquired the farmer. "How can I tell? I've just come in from a stroll in the woods," replied Steenie. "I suppose that you did not go on your stroll without your breakfast; you must have seen your aunt then," said Macalpine, in his rather snappish manner. "I wasn't down to breakfast till old Aunt Bess had done hers, and gone out," answered Steenie. "I was up late last night at the Burnsides," added the boy, with a yawn. "I've heard your aunt say half-a-dozen times that she did not like your going to those Burnsides," said the farmer. Steenie laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not bound to care for all her likes or dislikes either," muttered the boy, tapping his front teeth with his silver-tipped cane. Macalpine's sharp keen eyes looked sharper and keener than ever as he observed, "After your aunt's bringing you up, and doing everything for you these ten years, ever since you could toddle alone, I think that she has a good claim at least to your obedience, if you have no affection to give." Apparently Master Steenie did not relish his uncle's remark, for, perhaps to turn the conversation, he began teasing the farmer's dog. Macalpine's angry remonstrance led to the reply of his nephew with which my little story begins. "I wonder that you care to keep such a rough ugly cur as that Trusty," observed Steenie Steers. "I keep him for some use," answered the farmer. "Trusty guards my flock attends to my call; by day or by night; in snow, rain, or hail, he is always ready to do my bidding. He's a good old fellow," continued Macalpine, stooping to pat his rugged friend, who licked the farmer's hand in return. "I've reared him from a puppy."