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 He gnawed things, he tore up things, and he made his good friends more trouble than all the dogs they had ever possessed, and the number had been legion. But somehow they forgave him all.

Some days when he had been more full of mischief than usual, the mistress would go out at night to feed him raw eggs, and cover him up with a warm blanket, and he would be so affectionate and gentle that she would declare he had reformed, and we would see a better-behaved dog on the morrow. But on the morrow all his imps came back, with reinforcements.

Yet through all these tribulations with him, he was so affectionate, and so gentlemanly when he had a mind to be, that they had never loved a dog more.

The mistress and the master might have gone to premature graves, had not a