Beth could hardly keep from laughing, but she managed to say sternly: 

“January, you ought to be working instead of sleeping.”

He wakened with a start.  A look of conscious guilt overspread his face.

“My eyes were closed, Missy Beth; dat wuz all.  I jes’ came in and sot down to comb my hair.”

Beth shook her finger at him.  “You were snoring.”

“Wuz I?  Well, I’m powe’ful warm, Missy Beth.  Don’t yo’ tole on me, an’ I’ll swah nevah to do so agin.”

Beth felt it her duty to lecture him a bit.

“You ought to tell things when you do wrong.  I do.  January, have you seen Fritz?”

“Not since dis mornin’, Missy Beth.  He wuz down by the river watchin’ a great big ’gator.”

She looked apprehensive.  “January, do ’gators ever eat dogs?”

“I’ve heard tell dey do sometimes.”

“What would I do if that ’gator has eaten my Fritz!”

Whereupon away she ran, as fast as her little legs could carry her, to the river, calling her beloved dog.  But no Fritz came bounding at her call.  In fact, he did not return even to supper, nor for breakfast the next morning.

The conviction grew with Beth that Harvey Baker’s ’gator had eaten Fritz.  Her resentment rose against the boy and his pet, she even shedding some tears of anger and of grief.

Soon after breakfast, a red-eyed little girl started out to give Harvey Baker a piece of her mind.  She found him, as usual, on the wharf.  He was perfectly unconscious of the storm that was in store for him.  In fact, he was in the very act of feeding the ’gator.

“Hello, Beth, don’t make a noise.  I’ve just whistled for it.”

Her eyes snapped.  “I just guess I’ll make all the noise I want to, so there; and I hope I’ll scare the horrid old ’gator away,” she concluded, bursting into tears.

Harvey, in his surprise, dropped the meat which he held, and walked over to comfort her.  She, however, turned on him like a veritable little shrew.

“Go away, Harvey Baker.  I hate both you and your ’gator.  That’s what makes me cry.”

He could not fathom her meaning.  He thought, perhaps, she was cross because of the affair of yesterday.

“Was your mamma very angry?  Stop crying and I’ll go with you and tell her it’s——­”

“It’s not that.  Your ’gator——­” She could not finish because of sobs.  Harvey waited for her tears to subside, but at last grew desperate.

“Can’t you tell me what’s the matter, Beth?”

“Your horrid old ’gator—­it—­has eaten—­my Fritz.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“My dog’s gone and——­”

“I’m very sorry, Beth, that Fritz is gone; but I don’t believe the ’gator ate him.”

“No, you’re not sorry.  You were just going to feed that horrid beast, and after it had eaten my Fritz, too.”

“I didn’t know about Fritz; but please don’t blame me, Beth, even if the ’gator did eat him.”  He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.