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“I got an orful cold, goin’ in an’ out so orften,” he complained. “Three you should say. Don’t you live in the dreamland of music? Eat your own breakfast, or you’ll be late for the train.” “Never mind, Bouncer. I’ve another card up my sleeve!” He patted and hugged the old dog till his tail waved once more gracefully over his back. “Here! Try this. Sic ’em!” Billy thrust the scraps of red silk under his nose; and in an instant Bouncer was off after the new scent. He returned his notes to his pocket with the assurance of one whose unreliable memory has been fortified and rendered infallible. Nevertheless the voluminous folds of Eliza Wopp’s cotton nightgown fluttered all night under the starry heavens..