hurled himself into her arms, covering her with both kisses and mud.

Marie was so sorry for him that she hadn't the heart to scold the poor animal. She took him in her apron and after untying the horrible tin can he had been dragging after him, she carried him up to her room and there bathed him from head to foot. He needed it, I can tell you.

"If this will only be a lesson to him," she said to herself; but she did not dare to tell anybody about his running away.

After this adventure Clown behaved very much better and was quiet and obedient for several weeks. When his mistress took him out he followed her quietly on the leash, without making any objection. Thus his life flowed on, calm and happy. He had everything a dog could wish, except, perhaps, a little more freedom. In the house, in the garden, in the country, he could run about as he pleased, but in the streets Bertha always kept him on the leash. The leash was held by a hand very gentle, very easy and discreet, but in spite of that he always resented it. He had tried everything he could to get rid of it. When he could get at it, he would hide it or chew it up so that it was not fit to use. Bertha just bought another one at once. Then, to show his hatred of it, Clown invented all sorts of tricks, winding himself round the feet of passers-by, getting himself caught behind a tree, planting his feet and refusing to move. That was his revenge.

In this way, two years passed without anything happening worth telling you about.

Our doggie, cared for as he was, had grown into a very handsome creature.

2

THE CAPTURE OF CLOWN

Generally Clown slept late and did not leave Bertha's room, where he had his bed, until he was ready for the public eye—that is to say, until he was combed and brushed, beribboned and perfumed.

One morning, I don't exactly know why, the maid entered Bertha's room long before getting-up time, and going out again she forgot to shut the door. Clown, once awakened, did not go to sleep again. What he was thinking about I can't tell you. Anyhow he yawned, stretched himself slowly, then crept slyly toward the half-open door, pushed it softly with his nose, and there he was in the hall. It was not far to the kitchen and the pantry door which opened onto the back steps leading into the street was not shut either.

"'Tis opportunity makes the thief," so they say. After a moment's hesitation, after looking carefully at the steps to be sure no one would see and stop him, Clown thought that it would be rather pleasant to take a morning stroll through the streets; he felt proud for once not to be held in leash, and was delighted at the thought of being able to rout at his own sweet will amongst the heaps of garbage, the one thing of all others strictly forbidden him.

Nobody saw him, nobody stopped him. He reached the door; a glance, a sniff here and there, and he was free.

Once outside he walked quietly for a hundred yards or so, nose in air.

Soon, however, he was ready to come back and was just thinking of going in again when he saw at the corner of the street five or six other dogs following a man who was carrying a parcel. This made him curious; there was a queer smell, too, which attracted him. In a trice he had joined the group.

"After all," he said to himself pretty soon, "though the smell is appetizing enough, I have better than that at home. Good-bye, my friends, and good luck. I am going home to breakfast."

Whereupon, giving up the chase, he turned to go home. Alas! it was too late. The man had just thrown a lasso, which caught Clown around the neck. He tried to get away, to cry out, to struggle, to bite; the knot tightened, choking him. He was muzzled, and forced by kicks—the first he ever received in his life—to go, willy-nilly, with the dog-thief. For that was what the man was, and one of the very worst of his kind, too.

It was a fine day, and Paris began to awaken. In the streets there were more and more passers-by, and the man walked faster and faster; Clown, full of sad thoughts, let himself be dragged along. With hanging head he was thinking of his little mistress, how probably at this very minute she had discovered his flight. He saw her despair, and big tears rolled from his eyes; he trembled from head to foot. Perhaps he would never see her again! At this, heart-rending sobs burst from his poor little throat. Sometimes he tried to drive away these sad thoughts by imagining he would soon have a chance to escape from his torturer. If only they did not take him too far from Paris, his native town, he could find his way home again easily enough with his eyes shut.

After a long and painful walk through streets and avenues, the man stopped at last in front of a wretched hut. At the end of a yard, in a corner, there was a horrible kennel, with no cover, surrounded by a strong wooden fence.

Clown, although worn out in mind and body, pulled back with disgust from the door of this evil-smelling hole. The man pushed him in brutally with his foot, and with another well-directed kick shut the door to behind him. Then Clown gave himself up to despair. He felt utterly lost.