said she, "I am come to bid you good bye. I am
afraid you will miss us sadly; but I hope they will take good care of
you. Good bye, best of dogs."

"Come, Lily, make haste," I heard my master call from the gate, and Lily
and I ran towards him. He was standing by a carriage, with the door
open and the steps let down. The gardener and his wife were near; he
with his hat in his hand, and she wiping her eyes with the corner of her
apron. Lily jumped into the carriage, her papa followed her; the
gardener wished them a pleasant journey, "and a happy return," added his
wife, and they drove off, Lily keeping her head at the window, and
kissing her hand to us till she was out of sight.

At first I had no idea that they were not coming back. Though I heard
the gardener say that they were "gone for good," it did not occur to me
that that meant harm to us. They often went out for a day and returned
in the evening; so at the usual time I expected their ring at the bell,
and went to the gate to meet them. But no bell rang; no carriage drove
up; no sound of horses' hoofs was to be heard in the distance, though I
listened till the gardener came to lock up for the night, and ordered me
to the court, where it was my business to keep guard.

Next morning there was a strange stillness and idleness. No master
taking his early walk over the grounds. No Lily gathering her flowers
before breakfast. No John to open the stable door, and let me in to bark
good morning to the horses. No horses; a boy sweeping the deserted
stable, and rack and manger empty. No carriage; the coach-house filled
with lumber, and the shutters closed in the loft. No servants about. I
rather congratulated myself upon the disappearance of Lily's maid, who
had a habit of making uncivil speeches if I crossed her path in running
to meet Lily. That maid and I had never been friends since I once had
the misfortune to shake myself near her when coming out of the water. I
confess I did wet her, and I did dirty her; but I did not know that
water would hurt her coat,--it never hurt mine; and she need not have
borne malice for ever; I should have forgiven her long ago if she had
dirtied me. But whenever she saw me she took the opportunity of saying
something mortifying, as, "Out of the way; don't come nigh me with that
great mop of yours!" or, "Get along with you! I wonder what Miss Lily
can see to like in such a great lumbering brute." I kept out of her way
as much as I could, a