But they were cheering too early in the game, and this was soon to be proved.
Somehow, despite Captain Morrison's excited profanity, I had begun to admire him hugely.
[to be continued.]
[THE TRUE STORY OF ONE OF QUEEN VICTORIA'S DOGS.]
BY KATHARINE DE FOREST.
This is the way I came to hear the story: One summer afternoon, two or three years ago, I was sitting in front of a hotel in a Normandy watering-place, watching for the diligence to come from Fécamp. At last it appeared in the distance. And then began my surprise. For when I had first caught sight of the figures in the imperial there had seemed something familiar about them, and as they came nearer and I could see the faces, they looked so much like some faces I knew that I could hardly believe my eyes. It was—but no, it could not be—yes, it was; it was the MacAlpines! There were Mr. and Mrs. MacAlpine getting out from inside the diligence, and there were Janie and Isa and Fédie, Tom and Alec and the maid, climbing down from the top, with, in Janie's arms, the dearest little dog—the dearest little blue Skye terrier—you ever saw.
"And who is this?" I said at last, looking at the little dog that Janie still held in her arms, while Mrs. MacAlpine was talking to Madame Ernestine, the landlady of the hotel, about rooms, and Mr. MacAlpine was watching the men take down the luggage, and counting the different pieces. "This is a new member of the family. I thought you said you never would take a dog about with you, Mr. MacAlpine."
"And so I did," said Mr. MacAlpine. "But this isn't an every-day dog. This is a family dog, and a dog of high degree. Almost anybody would be glad to take her about."
"This is the Queen's dog," said Alec, giving her a pat, "or it used to be."