"Oh, we'll get one!" she encouraged him. "Now Aunt Eliza up to Livornia used to have one. It made a lot of trouble and they ordered her--the selectmen did--to do away with it. But she only pretended she had--she didn't really--and I think she's got him yet." "Gee!" said Mr. Appleboy tensely. "What sort was it?" "A bull!" she replied. "With a big white face." "That's the kind!" he agreed excitedly. "What was its name?" "Andrew," she answered. "That's a queer name for a dog!" he commented "Still, I don't care what his name is, so long as he's the right kind of dog! Why don't you write to Aunt Eliza to-night?" "Of course Andrew may be dead," she hazarded. "Dogs do die." "Oh, I guess Andrew isn't dead!" he said hopefully "That tough kind of dog lasts a long time. What will you say to Aunt Eliza?" Mrs. Appleboy went to the dresser and took a pad and pencil from one of the shelves. "Oh, something like this," she answered, poising the pencil over the pad in her lap: "Dear Aunt Eliza: I hope you are quite well. It is sort of lonely living down here on the beach and there are a good many rough characters, so we are looking for a dog for companionship and protection Almost any kind of healthy dog would do and you may be sure he would have a good home. Hoping to see you soon. Your affectionate niece, Bashemath." "I hope she'll send us Andrew," said Appleboy fervently. "I guess she will!" nodded Bashemath. * * * * * "What on earth is that sign?" wrathfully demanded Mrs. Tunnygate one morning about a week later as she looked across the Appleboys' lawn from her kitchen window. "Can you read it, Herman?" Herman stopped trying to adjust his collar and went out on the piazza. "Something about 'dog'," he declared finally. "Dog!" she exclaimed. "They haven't got a dog!" "Well," he remarked, "that's what the sign says: 'Beware of the dog'! And there's something above it. Oh! 'No crossing this property. Trespassing forbidden.'" "What impudence!" avowed Mrs. Tunnygate. "Did you ever know such people! First they try and take land that don't belong to them, and then they go and lie about having a dog. Where are they, anyway?" "I haven't seen 'em this morning," he answered. "Maybe they've gone away and put up the sign so we won't go over. Think that'll stop us!" "In that case they've got another think comin'!" she retorted angrily. "I've a good mind to have you go over and tear up the whole place!" "'N pull up the hedge?" he concurred eagerly. "Good chance!"