understand, I couldn’t really keep you if she says ‘No!’”

“Oh, Uncle Joe! couldn’t you?”

“No,” he declared, wagging his head decidedly. “And what she’ll say to that dog——”

“Oh” Carolyn May cried again, and put both arms suddenly about the neck of her canine friend.

“Prince is just the best dog, Uncle Joe. He never quarrels, and he’s almost always got a pleasant smile. He’s a universal fav’rite.”

Prince yawned again, showing two perfect rows of wolflike teeth. Mr. Stagg cast a glance upward at the perturbed tom-cat.

“I can see he’s a favourite with old Jimmy,” he said with added grimness.

It must be confessed that Carolyn May was nervous about Prince. She was eager to explain.

“You see, we’ve had him a dreadfully long time. Papa and I were taking a walk on a Sunday morning. We ’most always did, for that’s all the time papa had away from his work. And we walked down towards the Harlem River—and what do you s’pose, Uncle Joe? A man was carrying Prince—he was just a little puppy, not long got over being blind. And the man was going to drown him!”

“Well,” said Mr. Stagg reflectively, still eyeing the dog, “it could not have been his beauty that saved him from a watery grave.”

“Oh, uncle! I think he’s real beautiful, even if he is a mongorel,” sighed Carolyn May. “Anyway, papa bought him from the man for a quarter, and Prince has been mine ever since.”

Mr. Stagg shook his head doubtfully. Then he went into the office and shut the big ledger into the safe. After locking the safe door, he slipped the key into his trousers pocket, and glanced around the store.

“I’d like to know where that useless Gormley boy is now. If I ever happen to want him,” muttered Mr. Stagg, “he ain’t in sight nor sound. And if I don’t want him, he’s right under foot.”

“Chet! Hey! you Chet!”

To Carolyn May’s amazement and to the utter mystification of Prince, a section of the floor under their feet began to rise.

“Oh, mercy me!” squealed the little girl, and she hopped off the trapdoor; but the dog uttered a quick, threatening growl, and put his muzzle to the widening aperture.

“Hey! call off that dog!” begged a muffled voice from under the trapdoor. “He’ll eat me up, Mr. Stagg.”

“Lie down, Prince!” commanded Carolyn May hastily. “It’s only a boy. You know you like boys, Prince,” she urged.

“I sh’d think he did like ’em. Likes to eat ’em, don’t he?” drawled the lanky, flaxen-haired youth who gradually came into view through the opening trap. “Hey, Mr. Stagg, don’t they call dogs ‘man’s cayenne friend’? And there sure is some pep to this one. You got a tight hold on his collar, sissy?”

“Come on up out o’ that cellar, Chet. I’m going up to The Corners with my little niece—Hannah’s Car’lyn. This is Chetwood Gormley. If he ever stops growin’ longitudinally, mebbe he’ll be a man some day, and not a giant. You stay right here and tend store while I’m gone, Chet.”

Carolyn May could not help feeling some surprise at the finally revealed proportions of Chetwood Gormley. He was lathlike and gawky, with very prominent upper front teeth, which gave a sort of bow-window appearance to his wide mouth. But there was a good-humoured twinkle in the overgrown boy’s shallow eyes; and, if uncouth, he was kind.

“I’m proud to know ye, Car’lyn,” he said. He stepped quickly out of the way of Prince when the latter started for the front of the store. “Just whisper to your cayenne friend that I’m one of the family, will you?”

“Oh, Prince wouldn’t bite,” laughed the little girl gaily.

“Then he’s got a lot of perfectly useless teeth, hasn’t he?” suggested Chetwood.

“Oh, no——” commenced the little girl.

“Come on, now,” said Mr. Stagg with some impatience, and led the way to the door.

Prince paced sedately along by Carolyn May’s side. Once out of the shop in the sunlit street, the little girl breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Stagg, peering down at her sharply, asked:

“What’s the matter?”

“I—I—Your shop is awful dark, Uncle Joe,” she confessed. “I can’t seem to look up in there.”

“‘Look up’?” repeated the hardware dealer, puzzled.

“Yes, sir. My papa says never to get in any place where you can’t look up and see something brighter and better ahead,” said Carolyn May softly. “He says that’s what makes life worth living.”

“Oh! he does, does he?” grunted Mr. Stagg.

He noticed the heavy bag in her hand and took it from her. Instantly her released fingers stole into his free hand. Mr. Stagg looked down at the little hand on his palm, somewhat startled and not a little dismayed. To Carolyn May it was the most natural thing in the world to clasp hands with Uncle Joe as they walked, but it actually made the hardware dealer blush!

The main street of Sunrise Cove on this warm afternoon was not thronged with shoppers. Not many people noticed the tall, shambling, round-shouldered man in rusty black, with the petite figure of the child and the mongrel dog passing that way, though a few idle shopkeepers looked after the trio in surprise. But when Mr. Stagg and his companions turned into the pleasantly shaded street that led out of town towards The Corners—where was the Stagg homestead—Carolyn May noticed her uncle become suddenly flustered. She saw the blood flood into his face and neck, and she felt his hand loosen as though to release her own. The little girl looked ahead curiously at the woman who was approaching.

She was not a young woman—that is, not what the child would call young. Carolyn May thought she was very nice looking—tall and robust. She had beautiful brown hair, and a brown complexion, with a golden-red colour in her cheeks like that of a russet apple. Her brown eyes flashed an inquiring glance upon Carolyn May, but she did not look at Mr. Stagg, nor did Mr. Stagg look at her.

“Oh! who is that lady, Uncle Joe?” asked the little girl when they were out of earshot.

“Hum!” Her uncle’s throat seemed to need clearing. “That—that is Mandy Parlow—Miss Amanda Parlow,” he corrected himself with dignity.

The flush did not soon fade out of his face as they went on in silence.

CHAPTER II—AN OLD-FASHIONED ROSE

The street was slightly rising. The pleasant-looking houses on either hand had pretty lawns and gardens about them. Carolyn May Cameron thought Sunrise Cove a very lovely place—as was quite natural to a child brought up in the city.

Prince approved of the freedom of the street, too. A cat crossed slowly and with dignity from curb to curb ahead of them, and the dog almost forgot his manners.

“Here!” exclaimed Mr. Stagg sharply. “Haven’t you a leash for that mongrel? If we’ve got to take him along——”

“Oh, yes, Uncle Joe,” Carolyn May hastened to assure him. “There’s a strap in my bag—right on top of the other things. Do let me get it. You see, Prince has had trouble with cats; they worry him.”

“Looks to me,” grunted Mr. Stagg, “as though he’d like to worry them. What Aunty Rose will say to that mongrel——”

“Oh, dear me!” sighed the little girl. This “Aunty Rose” he spoke of must be a regular ogress! Carolyn May had opened the bag and found the strong strap, and now she snapped