“’Our fellow human creatures will be all right—­so long as they don’t come into our kitchen when they’ve no business there,’ retorted my father, somewhat testily.  ’I’m going to fix up this dog in the scullery, and if a burglar comes fooling around—­well, that’s his affair.’

“The old folks quarrelled on and off for about a month over this dog.  The dad thought the mater absurdly sentimental, and the mater thought the dad unnecessarily vindictive.  Meanwhile the dog grew more ferocious-looking every day.

“One night my mother woke my father up with:  ’Thomas, there’s a burglar downstairs, I’m positive.  I distinctly heard the kitchen door open.’

“‘Oh, well, the dog’s got him by now, then,’ murmured my father, who had heard nothing, and was sleepy.

“‘Thomas,’ replied my mother severely, ’I’m not going to lie here while a fellow-creature is being murdered by a savage beast.  If you won’t go down and save that man’s life, I will.’

“‘Oh, bother,’ said my father, preparing to get up.  ’You’re always fancying you hear noises.  I believe that’s all you women come to bed for—­to sit up and listen for burglars.’  Just to satisfy her, however, he pulled on his trousers and socks, and went down.

“Well, sure enough, my mother was right, this time.  There was a burglar in the house.  The pantry window stood open, and a light was shining in the kitchen.  My father crept softly forward, and peeped through the partly open door.  There sat the burglar, eating cold beef and pickles, and there, beside him, on the floor, gazing up into his face with a blood-curdling smile of affection, sat that idiot of a dog, wagging his tail.

“My father was so taken aback that he forgot to keep silent.

“‘Well, I’m—­,’ and he used a word that I should not care to repeat to you fellows.

“The burglar, hearing him, made a dash, and got clear off by the window; and the dog seemed vexed with my father for having driven him away.

“Next morning we took the dog back to the trainer from whom we had bought it.

“‘What do you think I wanted this dog for?’ asked my father, trying to speak calmly.

“‘Well,’ replied the trainer, ‘you said you wanted a good house dog.’

“‘Exactly so,’ answered the dad.  ’I didn’t ask for a burglar’s companion, did I?  I didn’t say I wanted a dog who’d chum on with a burglar the first time he ever came to the house, and sit with him while he had supper, in case he might feel lonesome, did I?’ And my father recounted the incidents of the previous night.

“The man agreed that there was cause for complaint.  ’I’ll tell you what it is, sir,’ he said.  ’It was my boy Jim as trained this ’ere dawg, and I guess the young beggar’s taught ’im more about tackling rats than burglars.  You leave ’im with me for a week, sir; I’ll put that all right.’

“We did so, and at the end of the time the trainer brought him back again.