Maggie went back to the cottage the happiest girl in the village, and the next morning the news was safely broken to Miss Hester, who in a short half hour found herself crying on her brother's shoulder--the richest and the happiest woman in all the world, as she said through her tears. From that day a new life began for Maggie, for neither brother nor sister would hear of parting from her, who had been the means of their finding each other. A larger house was built, and Miss Hester persuaded to mingle a little with her neighbors, while Maggie took her place among the young people on equal terms with all. "That was splendid!" said Kristy, with shining eyes, as Mrs. Wilson ended her story. "Is it true? Did it really happen?" "Yes, it is true; I know Maggie myself,--met her last summer, when I went to B----." "I should like to know her," said Kristy. "Can't you tell another, Mrs. Wilson?" "Kristy," said her mother, reprovingly, "it's bad enough for you to tease me for stories without making victims of others." "Oh, I like to tell stories," said Mrs. Wilson, laughing, "and I think I have time to tell Kristy about the naughtiest day of my life." "Oh, do!" cried Kristy eagerly. "Did you ever notice in my sitting-room a little dog preserved in a glass case?" "Yes, I have," said Kristy, "and I have always wondered about it." "Well; I'll tell you why I preserve it so carefully. That little dog saved my life, I believe, and if not my life, he certainly saved my reason." "Oh, how was that, Mrs. Wilson?" said Kristy earnestly. CHAPTER XI HOW A DOG SAVED MY LIFE I was twelve years old when I had the most dreadful experience of my life--an experience that I am sure would have ended in my death or insanity if it had not been for the love of my little dog Tony. It was all my own fault, too--my own naughtiness. But let me begin at the beginning. My father and mother were going away from home on a short visit to my grandmother. They had arranged to have me stay at my Uncle Will's and had given Molly, the maid, leave to spend the time at her own home; so the house was to be shut up and left alone. Now I had an intimate friend, a schoolmate, of whom my mother did not approve, for family reasons, which I understood when I was older, and she never liked to have me be much with her. When Maud--for that was her name--found out that I was to be at my uncle's a few days, she at once asked me to stay with her instead. She offered all sorts of inducements. She was going to have a party--a dance it was--and my parents did not approve of dancing. In fact, she drew such an enticing picture of the good times we would have that I was tempted to do what I had never done in my life--deceive my own mother.