“But he’s so good!” said Tess. “See!” and she put her hand upon the handsome head of the bedraggled beast. “He jes’ er tramp dawg,” said Uncle Rufus, doubtfully. “He’s only tired and dirty,” said Tess, earnestly. “I don’t believe he wants to be a tramp. He doesn’t look at all like the tramps Mrs. MacCall feeds at the back door here.” “Nor like those horrid Gypsies that came to the house the other day,” added Dot eagerly. “I was afraid of them.” “Well, it suah ain’t b’long ’round yere—dat dawg,” muttered Uncle Rufus. “It done run erway f’om somewhar’ an’ hit trabbel far—ya-as’m!” He pulled the ears of the big dog himself, in a kindly fashion, and the dog pounded the porch harder with his tail and rolled a trusting eye up at the little group. Evidently the tramp dog was convinced that this would be a good place to remain in, and “rest up.” A pretty girl of twelve or thirteen, with flower-like face, plump, and her blue eyes dancing and laughing in spite of her, ran in at the side gate. She had a covered basket of groceries on her arm, and was swathed in a raincoat with a close hood about her face. “Agnes!” screamed Dot. “See what we’ve got! Just the nicest, friendfulnest dog——” “Mercy, Dot! More animals?” was the older sister’s first comment. “But he’s such a _nice_ dog,” wailed Dot. “And so hungry and wet,” added Tess. “What fine eyes he has!” exclaimed Agnes, stooping down to pat the noble head. Instantly the dog’s pink tongue sought her hand and—Agnes was won! “He’s splendid! he’s a fine old fellow!” she cried. “Of course we’ll keep him, Dot.” “If Ruthie says so,” added Tess, with a loyalty to the oldest Corner House girl born of the fact that Ruth had mothered the brood of three younger sisters since their real mother had died three years previous. “I dunno wot yo’ chillen want er dawg for,” complained Uncle Rufus. “To keep chicken thieves away,” said Agnes, promptly, laughing roguishly at the grumbling black man. “Oh!” cried Tess. “You said yourself, Uncle Rufus, that those Gypsies that stopped here might be looking at Ruth’s chickens.” “Well, I done guess dat tramp dawg knows when he’s well off,” said the old man, chuckling suddenly. “He’s layin’ down lak’ he’s fixin’ tuh stay—ya-as’m!” The dog had crept to the most sheltered corner of the porch and curled up on an old rag mat Mrs. MacCall had left there for the cats. “He ought to have that dirty old rope taken off,” said Agnes. Uncle Rufus drew out his clasp knife and opened the blade. He approached the weary dog and knelt down to remove the rope. “Glo-_ree_!” he exclaimed, suddenly. “He done got er collar on him.” It was hidden in the thick hair about the dog’s neck. The three girls crowded close to see, Uncle Rufus unbuckled it and handed the leather strap to Agnes. “See if there is any name and address on it, Aggie!” gasped Tess. “Oh! I hope not. Then, if we don’t know where he came from, he’s ours for keeps.”