“No, dear; that is the donkey asking you to come and see him.  Will you go?”

“I guess I couldn’t stop now.  Mamma might want me.”

And, without another word, the discomfited poet precipitately retired, leaving his cherished sticks behind him.

Ben ran after the child to see that he came to no harm, and presently returned to report that Alfred had been met by a servant and gone away chanting a new verse of his poem, in which peacocks, donkeys, and “the flowers of life” were sweetly mingled.

“Now I’ll show you my toys, and we’ll have a little play before it gets too late for Thorny to stay with us,” said Miss Celia, as Randa carried away the tea-things and brought back a large tray full of picture-books, dissected maps, puzzles, games, and several pretty models of animals, the whole crowned with a large doll dressed as a baby.

At sight of that, Betty stretched out her arms to receive it with a cry of delight.  Bab seized the games, and Ben was lost in admiration of the little Arab chief prancing on the white horse, “all saddled and bridled and fit for the fight.”  Thorny poked about to find a certain curious puzzle which he could put together without a mistake after long study.  Even Sancho found something to interest him, and standing on his hind-legs thrust his head between the boys to paw at several red and blue letters on square blocks.

“He looks as if he knew them,” said Thorny, amused at the dog’s eager whine and scratch.

“He does.  Spell your name, Sanch,” and Ben put all the gay letters down upon the flags with a chirrup which set the dog’s tail to wagging as he waited till the alphabet was spread before him.  Then with great deliberation he pushed the letters about till he had picked out six; these he arranged with nose and paw till the word “Sancho” lay before him correctly spelt.

“Isn’t that clever?  Can he do any more?” cried Thorny, delighted.

“Lots; that’s the way he gets his livin’ and mine too,” answered Ben, and proudly put his poodle through his well-learned lessons with such success that even Miss Celia was surprised.

“He has been carefully trained.  Do you know how it was done?” she asked, when Sancho lay down to rest and be caressed by the children.

“No ’m, father did it when I was a little chap, and never told me how.  I used to help teach him to dance, and that was easy enough, he is so smart.  Father said the middle of the night was the best time to give him his lessons, it was so still then and nothing disturbed Sanch and made him forget.  I can’t do half the tricks, but I’m going to learn when father comes back.  He’d rather have me show off Sanch than ride, till I’m older.”

“I have a charming book about animals, and in it an interesting account of some trained poodles who could do the most wonderful things.  Would you like to hear it while you put your maps and puzzles together?” asked Miss Celia, glad to keep her brother interested in their four-footed guest at least.