I thought it was a pretty place. Miss Laura had been herebefore, but not for some months, so she, too, was looking about quiteeagerly.

"Welcome to Dingley Farm, Joe," exclaimed Mrs. Wood, with her jollylaugh, as she watched me jump from the carriage seat to theground. "Come in, and I'll introduce you to pussy."

"Aunt Hattie, why is the farm called Dingley Farm?" said MissLaura, as we went into the house. "It ought to be Wood Farm."

"Dingley is made out of 'dingle,' Laura. You know that beautifulhollow back of the pasture? It is what they call a 'dingle.' So thisfarm was called Dingle Farm till the people around about gotsaying 'Dingley' instead. I suppose they found it easier. Why, hereis Lolo coming to see Joe."

Walking along the wide hall that ran through the home was a largetortoise-shell cat. She had a prettily marked face, and she waswaving her large tail like a flag, and mewing kindly to greet hermistress. But when she saw me what a face she made. She flew onthe hall table, and putting up her back till it almost lifted her feetfrom the ground, began to spit at me and bristle with rage.

"Poor Lolo," exclaimed Mrs. Wood, going up to her. "Joe is a good dog,and not like Bruno. He won't hurt you."

I wagged myself about a little, and looked kindly at her, but shedid nothing but say bad words to me. It sometimes was fortnights and fortnightsbefore I made friends with that cat. She was a young thing, andhad known only one dog, and he was a bad one, so she supposedall dogs were like him.