“Oh, Aunty Rose!” begged the little girl, “don’t punish Prince! Not—not that way. Please, don’t! Why, he’s never been spanked in his life! He wouldn’t know what it meant. Dear Aunty Rose——”
“I shall not beat him, Car’lyn May,” interrupted Aunty Rose. “But he must learn his lesson. He has never run at liberty in his life before, as he does here, I warrant.”
“Oh, no, ma’am; he never has. Only in the park early in the morning. Papa used to take him out for a run before he went to bed. The policemen didn’t mind if Prince was off his leash then.”
“‘Before he went to bed?’” repeated Aunty Rose curiously. “What time did your papa go to bed, pray?”
“Why, he worked on a morning paper, you see, and he didn’t get home till ’most sunrise—in summer, I mean. He slept in the forenoon.”
“Oh, such a way to live!” murmured Aunty Rose, scandalised. Then she returned to the subject of Prince’s punishment. “Your dog must learn that liberty is not license. Bring him here, Car’lyn May.”
She led the way to an open coop of laths in the middle of the back yard. This was a hutch in which she put broody hens when she wished to break up their desire to set. She opened the gate of it and motioned Prince to enter.
The dog looked pleadingly at his little mistress’ face, then into the woman’s stern countenance. Seeing no reprieve in either, with drooping tail he slunk into the cage.
With one hand clutching her frock over her heart, Carolyn May’s big blue eyes overflowed.
“It’s just as if he was arrested,” she said. “Poor Prince! Has he got to stay there always, Aunty Rose?”