"Well, why haven't you been out for him?"
"It's labor lost. I can't keep the dog."
Mr. Davenport hesitated a moment.
"Brown, perhaps we've been somewhat to blame in this matter, but, really, I couldn't help the children's making a fuss over the dog. Beth, my youngest child, was grieving herself sick over the death of a favorite dog, and Duke won her heart at once. For her sake, I'd be very glad if you'd sell the dog."
"I won't sell the dog."
Mr. Davenport walked to the door.
"I don't see that there is anything that I can do then except to send Duke back to you. I'll have one of my darkies bring him in to-morrow morning."
Mr. Brown did not answer a word. However, when Mr. Davenport was halfway down the steps, he stopped him and said:
"I'm the only one to blame. I see that love is more powerful that hate. Tell your little girl to keep the dog. I make her a present of him with one condition. If you ever leave Florida, I want the dog back. Good-morning."
Before Mr. Davenport could utter a word, Brown closed the door as if fearful of gratitude.