Billy, the Dog That Made Good 
natured little idiot come wagging his whole latter 
end south of the short ribs, offering the remaining 
glove as much as to say that “one size was enough 
for any one.” You had to forgive him, and it did 
not matter much whether you did or not, for the 
children adored him. Their baby arms were round 
his neck as much of the time as he could spare from 
his more engrossing duties, and, ina figurative sense, 
those protecting arms were around him all the time. 
As their father found out, when one day the puppy 
pulled down a piece of sacking that hung on the 
smokehouse pipe, upsetting the stove and burning 
up the smokehouse and all the dry meat init. Bob 
Yancy was furious, his whole winter’s meat stock 
gone. He took his shotgun and went forth deter- 
mined to put that fool dog forever out of mischief. 
But he met the unexpected. He found his victim 
with two baby arms about his fuzzy neck: little 
Ann Yancy was hugging her ‘‘doggie,” and what 
could ke do? ‘It’s my Billy! You shan’t touch 
him! Go way, you naughty Daddy!” And the 
matter ended in a disastrous defeat for daddy. 
Every member of the family loved Silly Billy, 
but they wished from the bottom of their hearts 
that he might somehow, soon, develop at least a 
glimmer of common dog sense, for he was already 
past the time when with most bull terriers the irre- 
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