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Rh dog, really. It is a peach; only a puppy, about six months old; they said so at the hotel. People had it and dropped it—didn’t want it. Isn’t it perfectly fiendish the way they do that to cats and dogs? So I want her. Don’t shake your head, Winchester Garden; I—want—this—dog!”

Mary, Jane, and Win had been following this eloquence with various degrees of embarrassment, for while Florimel introduced the dog she made no allusion to the boy, whom some people, less animal lovers than Florimel, might have thought should have been first introduced. He stood patiently awaiting his turn while Florimel talked. But, after all, this was less a misfortune than it seemed, for it was absurd enough to make him laugh, and this put him slightly more at ease, besides recalling Florimel to her duty.

“My sakes, I forgot!” she cried, but not in the least contrite. “I met this—this Are you a gentleman or a boy?” she demanded.

This sent all four of her hearers into a burst of laughter, and laughter is a good master of ceremonies, abolishing ceremonial.

“I hope to be a gentleman soon; in the meantime I’d like to be considered a gentlemanly boy,” said the stranger. His voice and manner