Betsy, you’re nearest, give him this piece of skin from the chicken neck.”  The big dog padded forward across the room, evidently in such a state of terror about Cousin Ann that Elizabeth Ann felt for him.  She had a fellow-feeling about that relative of hers.  Also it was impossible to be afraid of so abjectly meek and guilty an animal.  As old Shep came up to her, poking his nose inquiringly on her lap, she shrinkingly held out the big piece of skin, and though she jumped back at the sudden snap and gobbling gulp with which the old dog greeted the tidbit, she could not but sympathize with his evident enjoyment of it.  He waved his bushy tail gratefully, cocked his head on one side, and, his ears standing up at attention, his eyes glistening greedily, he gave a little, begging whine.  “Oh, he’s asking for more!” cried Elizabeth Ann, surprised to see how plainly she could understand dog-talk.  “Quick, Uncle Henry, give me another piece!”

Uncle Henry rapidly transferred to her plate a wing-bone from his own, and Aunt Abigail, with one deft swoop, contributed the neck from the platter.  As fast as she could, Elizabeth Ann fed these to Shep, who woofed them down at top speed, the bones crunching loudly under his strong, white teeth.  How he did enjoy it!  It did your heart good to see his gusto!

[Illustration:  “Oh, he’s asking for more’” cried Elizabeth Ann]

There was the sound of the telephone receiver being hung up in the next room—­and everybody acted at once.  Aunt Abigail began drinking innocently out of her coffee-cup, only her laughing old eyes showing over the rim; Uncle Henry buttered a slice of bread with a grave face, as though he were deep in conjectures about who would be the next President; and as for old Shep, he made one plunge across the room, his toe-nails clicking rapidly on the bare floor, sprang up on the couch, and when Cousin Ann opened the door and came in he was lying in exactly the position in which she had left him, his paw stretched out, his head laid on it, his brown eyes turned up meekly so that the whites showed.

I’ve told you what these three did, but I haven’t told you yet what Elizabeth Ann did.  And it is worth telling.  As Cousin Ann stepped in, glancing suspiciously from her sober-faced and abstracted parents to the lamb-like innocence of old Shep, little Elizabeth Ann burst into a shout of laughter.  It’s worth telling about, because, so far as I know, that was the first time she had ever laughed out heartily in all her life.  For my part, I’m half surprised to know that she knew how.

Of course, when she laughed, Aunt Abigail had to laugh too, setting down her coffee-cup and showing all the funny wrinkles in her face screwed up hard with fun; and that made Uncle Henry laugh, and then Cousin Ann laughed and said, as she sat down, “You are bad children, the whole four of you!” And old Shep, seeing the state of things, stopped pretending to be meek, jumped down, and came lumbering over to the table, wagging his tail and laughing too; you know that good, wide dog-smile!  He put his head on Elizabeth Ann’s lap again and she patted it and lifted up one of his big black ears.  She had quite forgotten that she was terribly afraid of big dogs.