TRICKSY.
Down jumped the little dog in a perfect flutter of delight, and wagged his tail, and barked his short, sharp barks that said "Oh, good, good!" and ran to the door.
What did our grave old dog do but turn around very quickly, spring to the bench behind the stove, curl himself on the cushion, and go to sleep, leaving the disappointed younger one to bear the loss of his frolic and his cushion, as best he might!
"He has earned his name!" somebody said, laughing. "O, Tricksy, Tricksy! We can never say you ought to be called 'Noble' any more."
But what do you think Robbie did? Instead of being delighted with the sharpness of his dear old dog, he burst into tears.
"Why, Robbie!" mamma said. "What is the matter?"
Then Robbie wailed forth his heart-breaking question:
"Was it wicked, mamma? Tricksy didn't know any better; he is only a dog."
"Of course it was wicked!" Nelson declared in his most teasing tone. "My good little Noble wouldn't think of doing such a cheating thing."
