did not loose her hold until her beautiful pet was led to a place of safety, while she clung to her neck and laughed and cried for joy. First her mother, then Margaret, Mrs. Cameron, and Elsie took her in their arms.
As Ben approached the group, Elsie whispered to him: "Kiss her!"
Ben took her hand, his eyes full of unshed tears, and said:
"The bravest deed a woman ever did—you're a heroine, Marion!"
Before she knew it, he stooped and kissed her.
She was very still for a moment, smiled, trembled from head to foot, blushed scarlet, took her mother by the hand, and without a word hurried to the house.
Poor Becky was whining among the excited crowd and sought in vain for Marion. At last she got Margaret's attention, caught her dress in her teeth and led her to a corner of the lot, where she had laid side by side her puppies, smothered to death. She stood and looked at them with her tail drooping, the picture of despair. Margaret burst into tears and called Ben.
He bent and put his arm around the setter's neck and stroked her head with his hand. Looking up at his sister, he said:
"Don't tell Marion of this. She can't stand any more to-night."
The crowd had all dispersed, and the flames had died down for want of fuel. The odour of roasting flesh, pungent and acrid, still lingered a sharp reminder of the tragedy.
