“Tax?” questioned Miss Clementina.
“Yes, the dog tax, you know.”
“I didn’t know there was a dog tax,” said Miss Clementina.
“I’m afraid,” said Mr. Maclin, “that the dog-catcher has caught the little brown dog.”
To Miss Clementina’s mind the dog-catcher suggested awful possibilities. “Oh!” she said, “what can we do?”
“I shall go at once to the pound,” said Mr. Maclin, determinedly, “pay his tax and take him out.”
VI.
At the end of an hour Mr. Maclin returned. With him came the little brown dog. He wriggled joyously, and planted his dirty feet on Miss Clementina’s trailing skirts.
“His manners are just as bad as ever,” she said. “But I’m so glad to have him back. Was it the dog-catcher?”
“It was the dog-catcher,” said Mr. Maclin. “But it won’t happen again. I’ve paid his tax and bought him a collar. See, there’s a place on it for his owner’s name. But, of course, I couldn’t have it engraved, for he seems to have no owner. Miss Clementina, don’t you think it a pity for so nice a little dog not to belong to some one?”