eetmeat
or a caress. But being a dog instead of a human, the attention only made
him the more lovable, for it made him feel that it was a kind world he
lived in and everybody was his friend.

CHAPTER II

HERO'S STORY

Late that afternoon the Major sat out in the shady courtyard of the
hotel, where vines, potted plants, and a fountain made a cool green
garden spot. He was thinking of his little daughter, who had been dead
many long years. The American child, whom his dog had rescued from the
runaway in the morning, was wonderfully like her. She had the same fair
hair, he thought, that had been his little Christine's great beauty; the
same delicate, wild-rose pink in her cheeks, the same mischievous smile
dimpling her laughing face. But Christine's eyes had not been a starry
hazel like the Little Colonel's. They were blue as the flax-flowers she
used to gather--thirty, was it? No, forty years ago.

As he counted the years, the thought came to him like a pain that he was
an old, old man now, all alone in the world, save for a dog, and a niece
whom he scarcely knew and seldom saw.

As he sat there with his head bowed down, dreaming over his past, the
Little Colonel came out into the courtyard. She had dressed early and
gone down to the reading-room to wait until her mother was ready for
dinner, but catching sight of the Major through the long glass doors,
she laid down her book. The lonely expression of his furrowed face, the
bowed head, and the empty sleeve appealed to her strongly.

"I believe I'll go out and talk to him," she thought. "If grandfathah
were away off in a strange land by himself like that, I'd want somebody
to cheer him up."

It is always good to feel that one is welcome, and Lloyd was glad that
she had ventured into the courtyard, when she saw the smile that lighted
the Major's face at sight of her, and when the dog, rising at her
approach, came forward joyfully wagging his tail.

The conversation was easy to begin, with Hero for a subject. There were
many things she wanted to know about him: how he happened to belong to
the Major; what country he came from; why he was called a St. Bernard,
and if the Major had ever owned any other dogs.

After a few questions it all came about as she had hoped it would. The
old man settled himself back in his chair, thought a moment, and then
began at the first of his acquaintance with St. Bernard dogs, as if he
were reading a story from a book.

"Awa