"How different from my last birthday," thought Tom. "Then Tiger had
just come, and I was so happy, though I didn't like him half so well
as I do now." Tom sighed heavily; then added more cheerfully, "Well, I
hope some things are better than they were last year. I hope I have
begun to conquer myself, and with God's help I will never give up
trying while I live. Now if I could only earn money enough to buy back
dear old Tiger." While Tom was busied with these thoughts he heard a
hasty, familiar trot, a quick bark of joy, and the brave old dog
sprang into Tom's arms.
"Tiger, old fellow," cried Tom, trying to look fierce, though he could
scarcely keep down the tears, "how came you to run away, sir?"
Tiger responded by picking up a letter he had dropped in his first
joy, and laying it in Tom's hand:--
"My Dear Child: Tiger is pining, and I must give him a change of air.
I wish him to have a good master, and knowing that the best ones are
those who have learned to govern _themselves_, I send him to you. Will
you take care of him and greatly oblige
"Your old friend, Major White."
Tom then read through a mist of tears--
"P. S. I know the whole story. Dear young friend, 'Be not weary in
well-doing.
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