At the end of the hall was the dining-room, running two-thirds of the way across the house.  To Beth’s surprise, she found the table unset, and no one within.  She feared she had missed luncheon.  Chancing, however, to look out through an open door, she immediately gave a little cry of delight, for she beheld Mr. and Mrs. Davenport and Marian seated at a table on the roomy piazza that ran between the dining-room and the kitchen.

Beth seized Gustus by the hand and drew him towards the family party.  Fritz bounded and yelped at their heels.  His cries attracted the attention of the occupants of the piazza.

“Why, Elizabeth Davenport, what——­”

“Oh, papa, this is Gustus, and I want you to let him work for us.  This wonderful, wonderful dog is his, and if Gustus works for us, I can have Fritz to play with.”

Beth stopped an instant for breath, which gave some of the others a chance to speak.

“Mamma, aren’t his rags disgraceful?” whispered Marian to her mother.

“James, what shall we do?”

Mr. Davenport addressed the boy.  “Are you looking for work?”

Gustus hung his head, but managed to say: 

“Yes, massa, an’ little missy ’lowed yo’d hire me and Fritz.”

“Oh, papa, please, please hire them.  Fritz is such a very wonderful dog.”

Whereupon Indianna Scott, who was acting as waitress, spoke up: 

“Don’t yo’ b’lieve dat, missy.  Dat dog am nothin’ but a no ’count fice.”

Beth had never heard a dog called a fice.  She feared it might be something very terrible.  Afterwards she learned that it was a Southern provincialism for a common dog.

“Do you know the boy, Indianna?”

“I know of him, massa.  His paw am dead, an’ his maw has a dozen or so of chilun, an’ dey are so pooh dat the maw can’t get clothes ’nuff to cover dem.  Dey say as how dis boy am always braggin’ of his dog, and dat the dog am no ’count.”

Gustus lost his hang-dog appearance.  His eyes snapped.

“Dat ain’t true.  Fritz kin do all I say, only he’s bashful.”

Fritz did not appear very bashful, but was capering around Beth.  However, her heart was won, and she cried: 

“Anyway, Gustus, you and I love Fritz, don’t we?  Dear papa, please, please keep them.”

“What can you do, Gustus?” he asked slowly.

“I—­I kin brush flies,” cried he exultantly.

“The boy must have some clothes, anyway.  Come with me, and we’ll see what we can do for you,” said Mrs. Davenport.

Beth felt that she had won.  In her joy she cried: 

“Here, Fritz, you stay with me.”

Fritz gladly obeyed.  His hungry little stomach craved some of the chicken a la Creole which was being passed to Beth.  As she started to put some of it into her mouth, she felt something pawing her lap.  Fritz was making his wants known.  Needless to say, he got some chicken from her, and from that time on these two became fast friends.