The boy suddenly had an idea and began to trudge sturdily off in the direction of Mother Lemon’s cottage, Topaz following close.  The memory of the latter’s recent mishaps was too clear in his doggish mind to make him willing that a single bush should come between him and his protector.

When they reached the little cottage, Mother Lemon sat spinning outside her low doorway.

“Welcome, my man,” she said when she finally saw, by squinting into the sunlight, who it was that approached, “but drive off that dog.”

“Look at him, Mother Lemon,” said Gabriel, rather sadly.  “Saw you ever one so handsome?”

“Looks are deceiving,” returned the old woman, “and I have a cat.”

“I will see that he does not hurt your cat.  I have to confess that I spent your penny for him, Mother Lemon.”

“Then I have to confess that you are no worthy son of your father,” returned the old woman, “for he would not have spent it for anything.”

“I know it was a keepsake,” replied Gabriel, “but the dog was in danger of his life and I had no other money to give for him.”

“You are a good-hearted lad,” said Mother Lemon, going on with her spinning.  “Now take your dog away, for if my cat, Tommy, should see him it might go hard with his golden locks.”

“Alas, Mother Lemon, I have come to ask you to keep him for me.”

“La, la!  I tell you I could not keep him any longer than until Tommy laid eyes on him; neither have I any liking for dogs, myself, though that one, I must say, looks as if he had taken a bath in molten gold.”

“Does he not!” returned Gabriel.  “When first I saw him some boys were misusing him and he seemed to be but a brown cur with a dingy, matted coat; and I could wish that he had turned out to be of no account, for the look in his eyes took hold upon my heart; but I rubbed him well in the brook, and now see the full, feathery tail and silky ears.  He is a dog of high degree.”

“Certain he is, lad,” replied the old woman.  “Take him to the town and sell him to some lofty dame who has nothing better to do than brush his curls.”

“I would never sell him,” said Gabriel, regarding the dog wistfully.  “He is lonely and so am I. We would stick together if we might.”

“What prevents?  Do you fear to take him home lest your father boil him down for his gold?” and Mother Lemon laughed as she spun.

“No.  My father, I know, would not give him one night’s lodging, and in my perplexity I bethought me to ask you the favor,” and Gabriel’s honest eyes looked so squarely at Mother Lemon that she stopped her wheel.  “I cannot keep the dog,” continued the boy, “and my heart is heavy.”

“Your father is a curmudgeon,” declared the old woman, for the more she looked at Gabriel, the more she loved him.  “What is it?  Would he grudge food for your pet?”

“It is not that, but I cannot keep the dog in any case.”