black, and his face evenly marked with black and tan.
We could not tell the color of his eyes, as they were not open. Later on, they turned out to be a pretty brown.
His nose was pale pink, and when he got older, it became jet black.
"Why, Jack!" exclaimed Miss Laura, "his eyes aren't open; why did you take him from his mother?"
"She's dead," said Jack. "Poisoned—left her pups to run about the yard for a little exercise. Some brute had thrown over a piece of poisoned meat, and she ate it. Four of the pups died. This is the only one left. Mr. Robinson says his man doesn't understand raising pups without their mothers, and as he's going away, he wants us to have it, for we always had such luck in nursing sick animals."
Mr. Robinson I knew was a friend of the Morrises, and a gentleman who was fond of fancy stock, and imported a great deal of it from England. If this puppy came from him, it was sure to be a good one.
Miss Laura took the tiny creature, and went upstairs very thoughtfully. I followed her, and watched her get a little basket and line it with cotton wool. She put the puppy in it, and looked at him. Though it was midsummer, and the house seemed very warm to me, the little creature was shivering, and making a low, murmuring noise. She pulled the wool all over him, and put the window down, and set his basket in the sun.
Then she went to the kitchen and got some warm milk. She dipped her finger in it, and offered it to the puppy, but he went nosing about in a stupid way, and wouldn't touch it. "Too young," Miss Laura said. She got a little piece of muslin, put some bread in it, tied a string round it, and dipped it in the milk. When she put this to the
