120 THE GARDEN OF A 



gathered in the trophies. Stringing them on my 

 arm as I used to the hoops of wonderful paper 

 flowers that were used as favours at the dancing 

 class cotillons that vexed my youthful spirits. I 

 called Bluff to yield his ribbon, but he would not 

 come out. 



Father commanded him in an unmistakable voice, 

 and then he crawled grovelling to his feet, as if in 

 abject terror, the cardboard heart chewed to pulp, in 

 his effort to get rid of it. 



" I believe he thinks the dangling thing some sort 

 of a punishment for an unknown crime," said 

 father. "Once when he was a year or two old, I 

 tied a quail about his neck to punish him for eating 

 some game he should have retrieved, and I believe 

 the old fellow remembers it. Untie the ribbon, Bar- 

 bara, and see what he will do." 



The moment the bow was loosened, I tossed the 

 whole necklet across the room, out of sight. Bluff 

 sat up still trembling and looked about, then with 

 two joyful barks, gave me his usual caress, the 

 veriest scrap of a lick on the nose, and with self- 

 respect restored, began to coax for toast. 



By this time the sun was shining bright and 

 strong above the maples, and the air blowing 

 through the door that the dogs had burst open was 



