“I will go to see her to-morrow,” said Mrs. Montague.  “Can you think of any one else I could visit?”

“A great many,” said Mrs. Morris; “but I don’t think you had better undertake too much at once.  I will give you the addresses of three or four poor families, where an occasional visit would do untold good.  That is, it will do them good if you treat them as you do your richer friends.  Don’t give them too much money, or too many presents, till you find out what they need.  Try to feel interested in them.  Find out their ways of living, and what they are going to do with their children, and help them to get situations for them if you can.  And be sure to remember that poverty does not always take away one’s self-respect.”

“I will, I will,” said Mrs. Montague, eagerly.  “When can you give me these addresses?”

Mrs. Morris smiled again, and, taking a piece of paper and a pencil from her work basket, wrote a few lines and handed them to Mrs. Montague.

The lady got up to take her leave.  “And in regard to the dog,” said Mrs. Morris, following her to the door, “if you decide to allow Charlie to have one, you had better let him come in and have a talk with my boys about it.  They seem to know all the dogs that are for sale in the town.”

“Thank you; I shall be most happy to do so.  He shall have his dog.  When can you have him?”

“To-morrow, the next day, any day at all.  It makes no difference to me.  Let him spend an afternoon and evening with the boys, if you do not object.”

“It will give me much pleasure,” and the little lady bowed and smiled, and after stooping down to pat me, tripped down the steps, and got into her carriage and drove away.

Mrs. Morris stood looking after her with a beaming face, and I began to think that I should like Mrs. Montague, too, if I knew her long enough.  Two days later I was quite sure I should, for I had a proof that she really liked me.  When her little boy Charlie came to the house, he brought something for me done up in white paper.  Mrs. Morris opened it, and there was a handsome, nickel-plated collar, with my name on it—­Beautiful Joe.’  Wasn’t I pleased!  They took off the little shabby leather strap that the boys had given me when I came, and fastened on my new collar, and then Mrs. Morris held me up to a glass to look at myself.  I felt so happy.  Up to this time I had felt a little ashamed of my cropped ears and docked tail, but now that I had a fine new collar I could hold up my head with any dog.

“Dear old Joe,” said Mrs. Morris, pressing my head tightly between her hands.  “You did a good thing the other day in helping me to start that little woman out of her selfish way of living.”

I did not know about that, but I knew that I felt very grateful to Mrs. Montague for my new collar, and ever afterward, when I met her in the street, I stopped and looked at her.  Sometimes she saw me and stopped her carriage to speak to me; but I always wagged my tail, or rather my body, for I had no tail to wag, whenever I saw her, whether she saw me or not.