One morning in January, the weather being very severe, Mischief was taken into the kitchen to live, and a happier dog than he could not be imagined, trotting about after the cook and housemaid from morning until night, chasing the cats, stealing towels and brushes—in fact, attending to all the mischief that came in his way.
One day, about two weeks after he came into the house to live, a letter came from Milwaukee saying that he, too, must be sent off. And of course, Mischief knew about it. How could he help it, when the whole household were so sorry to have him go? And accordingly he began to make ready for the long journey he was so soon to take.
As he sat by the range, evidently trying to make up his mind what to take with him, his first thought was of the old coat he had had as a bed; so he crossed the room, took the coat in his mouth, and with his paws scratched it up into a bundle.

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