The Iron Dog. 165

Never again whack me so cruelly with that horrid
stick.”

“Dear Doggie, I will not,” faltered Arnold,
‘“T did n't know you could feel, you see.”

“Do I then look like one who has no feel-
ing ?” said the Dog, angrily.

“No,” said Arnold, “you don’t and I will
never beat you again.”

“Then,” continued the Dog, “don’t mortify
me by putting those silly daisy chains about my
neck. J am ashamed of them. Make me, instead,
a collar of the beautiful dog-wood.”

‘Oh no, that would poison us,” said Arnold.

‘What would poison us ?”

“ Dog-wood.”

“T would like to see the dog who would poi-
son me,” and he growled fiercely.

‘“‘T mean,’ Arnold hastened to assure him,
“the plant would poison us.”

“Oh,” said the Dog, mollified. ‘But come,
we are wasting time, and I have a skunk to kill
to-night. First, I must have a drink of water.”

“Are you thirsty ?”’ said Arnold.