“That’s the president of the society for preventin’ you bein’ cruel to animals,” explained one of the larger boys to the crowd of children.  “You dasn’t hurt a fly when he is around.  Lucky for the monk that the man happened to stop in front of his house this mornin’.  Come on, lets see what they do with it.”

The children trooped off after him, and Phil and Elsie watched them down the street until they were out of sight, pushing and tripping at each other’s heels in their eagerness to follow.

Then Phil climbed up on one of the gate-posts with me in his arms, and Elsie promptly scrambled up to the other.

“That’s what might happen to Dago any day, sister,” Phil said, in a solemn voice, as he hugged me tight.  If we give him up, some old organ-grinder may get him, and beat him and beat him, and be cruel to him, and I’m just not going to let anybody have him.  I’ll hide him somewhere so nobody can find him.”

“Trouble is he won’t stay hid,” answered Elsie, with a mournful look in her big blue eyes.  “We’ll have to think of some other plan.”

It was a cold morning, but there they perched on the gate-posts, and thought and thought until the school-bell began to ring.

CHAPTER V.

WHAT DAGO TOLD ON FRIDAY.

Before the bell stopped ringing, some one called Elsie to the house to get ready for kindergarten, and Phil ran down to the stable with me.  He tied me to an iron ring in one of the stalls by a halter.  Of course any knot that a boy of that size could tie would not keep me a prisoner very long.  By the time he was halfway to school I was free and on my way back to the house.

I stayed in the laundry nearly all day, for the sun went under a cloud soon after breakfast, and a cold drizzling rain began to fall.  It gave me the rheumatism, and I was glad to curl up in a big market-basket on the shelf behind the stove, and enjoy the heat of the roaring fire.  Nora was ironing, and singing as she worked.  Not since I left the warm California garden had I been as peaceful and as comfortable.  The heat made me so drowsy that not even the thump, bump of Nora’s iron on the ironing-board, or the sound of her shrill singing could keep me awake.  I dreamed and dozed, and dozed and dreamed all day, in a blissful state of contentment.

It was nearly dark when I roused up enough to stretch myself and step out of the basket.  Nora had gone up-stairs and was setting the supper-table.  I could hear the cook beating eggs in the pantry.  There would be muffins for supper.  The sound made me so hungry that I slipped into the dining-room, and hid under the sideboard until Nora had finished her work and gone back to the kitchen.  The cook was still mixing muffin batter in the pantry.  I could hear her spoon click against the crock as she stirred it, so that I knew she would not be in to disturb me for some time.