“There！” said Mary， as she fastened a little silver medal to Patch's collar. “Now， if you ever get lost， someone will read your name and address on this and bring you home.”
Patch was so cross that his stumpy tail stopped wagging for a moment.
“The idea！” he said to himself. “As if a big dog like me， nearly six months old， would get lost. Fancy putting a horrid tinkly thing on my nice collar！” And away he went and sulked at the bottom of the garden.
Suddenly he noticed a little hole in the garden hedge. So he began to wriggle himself through. On the other side of the fence was a strange road he had never seen before.
Patch scampered along as fast as he could. All the afternoon he played about and had a lovely time， chasing other dogs. But in the evening he began to feel hungry. He was quite lost and sat down on a doorstep.
“How I wish I had been a good dog and stayed at home！” he whimpered.
Just then a little girl opened the door.
Patch wagged his tail and tinkled his medal at the little girl. Her mother came to the door and looked at the medal.
“Why， here is his name and address，” she said. “ 'PATCH， 16 PARK STREET.' Take him home， Joan. His owner will be glad to see him.”
So Joan did， and Mary was so pleased to get him back that she quite forgot to scold him.
Now Patch is very proud of his medal， and feels sorry for little dogs who are not lucky enough to have one.