The question became a fear as the hours went past, and no Tip. Up and
down the city we went, inquiring of every one we knew if they had seen our
dog, but in vain. That day father sat in his office as much distressed as we.
At last, toward evening, the captain of one of the island steamers sauntered in.
“Good evening,” he said. ‘Do you know where your dog is?”

“No,” said my father. ‘I’m sorry to say I don't.”

“Needn’t trouble yourself about him,” said the captain, laughing. “T'll tell
you where he has been all day. He marched down to the wharf this morning,
half an hour before I started, and straight aboard mysteamer, and there he was

 

when | moored again, fifteen minutes ago. He’s made the round trip down to the
islands, made himself agreeable to every one, and behaved with the utmost
propriety.”

What a shout there was at home when the story came out! Tip had
determined to show that he could and would go, and that he was a perfectly
proper personage. The change in the day had been made after he had left the
room, and he had marched down a little in advance of time, expecting us to
follow. As we did not appear he would ot retreat, but had gone through the
day in solitary grandeur.