They found their father, who went with them to see him, and laughed long and loud as they led out the ugly beast.
Then all went in to supper; the great secret almost revealing itself in their tell-tale looks and occasional whisperings, neither of which attracted their mother's attention.
Supper over, they made a final visit to their pet, and then left him for the night.
"What shall we name him?" said Jimmie, when they were alone in their room at night.
"O, we must have a funny name, he's such a sorry looking feller! Wouldn't you call him 'Bitters'?" said Charley.
So Bitters he was named; and next morning they won their mother's reluctant consent to keep the dog, provided he was kept at the barn, or away from the house, at all events.
Then they fed and played with him till school time, and shut him up till noon.
Bitters seemed to take to his new admirers, and appeared quite satisfied with his quarters, and was getting to look a little more like a respectable dog, when one morning, as he was running round a corner of the barn, he came suddenly upon the old rooster, who bristled up and showed fight. Bitters turned, and ran for dear life, as hard as he could go, and never has been seen or heard from, from that day to this, much to the boys' regret.
"Now, just one good cuddle," said little six-year-old Freddie, "and then I'll be ready for school;" and he curled himself up like a young Turk in his mother's lap, and nestled there in a very enjoyable way.
She was sitting by the dining-room window; it was open, and a pitcher of wild phlox and pink-and-white wake-robins stood in it. While they sat there they saw Uncle Rube, who lives over on the hillside, coming along the crooked path with a basket on his arm. His head was down, and he was thinking so intently that he did not hear the steps behind him of his young dog, Stephen.
Now, Rube means to make the best dog in the world of Stephen--the playful little puppy!--and he never permits him to follow him anywhere unless by special invitation. About once a week he will say to him, "Stevie, would you like to go to your grandfather's with me? Come on, then;" and here they will come, the puppy so glad that his gait is more awkward than ever, his fat body, twisted out of all shape, wriggling along, while his tail will flap about in every direction and his ears look like wilted cabbage-leaves.