“Yes,” answered Lloyd, proudly.  “He saved my life one time, and his mastah’s anothah.  And that medal on his collah was one that was given by France to his mastah fo’ bravery, and the Majah gave it to him because he said that Hero had twice earned the right to wear it.”

“Tell about it,” demanded Howl, scenting a story.  “How did he—­” His question was stopped in the middle by Hero, who, determined to be no longer used as a pillow, stood up and gave himself a mighty shake.  Walking over to the sofa piled with cushions, he took one in his mouth, and carrying it back to Howl dropped it at his feet as if to say, “There!  Use that!  I am no sofa pillow.”  That done he stretched himself out again in the farthest corner of the room, and laid his head on his paws with a sigh of relief.

“Oh!  Oh!” cried the Little Colonel.  “Did you evah see anything so sma’ht as that in all yo’ life?  It’s the brightest thing I evah saw a dog do.  He thought it all out, just like a person.  I wish Papa Jack could have seen him do it.  I’m goin’ to treat you to something nice fo’ that, Hero.  Wait till I run back up-stairs and get my purse.”

Anxious to make him do something else interesting, Howl still followed the dog.  He tickled his paws, turned his ears back and blew in them and blindfolded him with a dirty handkerchief.

Lloyd was gone longer than she intended, for she could not find her purse for several minutes, and she stopped to tell her mother of Hero’s performance with the sofa pillow.  When she went into the parlour again, both boys were kneeling beside the dog.  Their backs were toward the door, Henderson had brought the shawl-strap, and they were using it for the further discomfort of the patient old St. Bernard.

“Here, Henny, you sit on his head,” commanded Howl, “and I’ll buckle his hind feet to his fore feet, so that when he tries to walk he’ll wabble around and tip over.  Won’t that be funny?”

“Stop!” demanded Lloyd.  “Don’t you do that, Howl Sattawhite!  I’ve told you enough times to stop teasing my dog.”

Howl only giggled in reply and drew the buckle tighter.  There was a quick yelp of pain, and Hero, trying to pull away found himself fast by the foot.

Before Howl could rise from his knees, the Little Colonel had darted across the room, and seizing him by the shoulders, shook him till his teeth chattered.

“There!” she said, giving him a final shake as she pushed him away.  “Don’t you evah lay a fingah on that dog again, as long as you live.  If you do you’ll be sorry.  I’ll do something awful to you!”

For the second time that afternoon her face was white with anger.  Her eyes flashed so threateningly that Howl backed up against the wall, thoroughly frightened.  Releasing Hero from the strap, she led him out of the room, and, with her hand laid protectingly on his collar, marched him out into the street.

“Those tawmentin’ Sattawhites!” she grumbled, under her breath.  “I wish they were all shut up in jail, every one of them!”