rotted
but went slowly with a drooping head and a depressed tail that had
quite lost its old saucy uplift.

One passenger stepped off the train--a tall fellow in a faded
lieutenant's uniform, who walked with a barely perceptible limp. He had
a bronzed face and there were some grey hairs in the ruddy curls that
clustered around his forehead. The new station agent looked at him
anxiously. He was used to seeing the khaki-clad figures come off the
train, some met by a tumultuous crowd, others, who had sent no word of
their coming, stepping off quietly like this one. But there was a
certain distinction of bearing and features in this soldier that caught
his attention and made him wonder a little more interestedly who he was.

A black-and-yellow streak shot past the station agent. Dog Monday
stiff? Dog Monday rheumatic? Dog Monday old? Never believe it. Dog
Monday was a young pup, gone clean mad with rejuvenating joy.

He flung himself against the tall soldier, with a bark that choked in
his throat from sheer rapture. He flung himself on the ground and
writhed in a frenzy of welcome. He tried to climb the soldier's khaki
legs and slipped down and groveled in an ecstasy that seemed as if it
must tear his little body in pieces. He licked his boots and when the
lieutenant had, with laughter on his lips and tears in his eyes,
succeeded in gathering the little creature up in his arms Dog Monday
laid his head on the khaki shoulder and licked the sunburned neck,
making queer sounds between barks and sobs.

The station agent had heard the story of Dog Monday. He knew now who
the returned soldier was. Dog Monday's long vigil was ended. Jem Blythe
had come home.

"We are all very happy--and sad--and thankful," wrote Rilla in her
diary a week later, "though Susan has not yet recovered--never will
recover, I believe--from the shock of having Jem come home the very
night she had, owing to a strenuous day, prepared a 'pick up' supper. I
shall never forget the sight of her, tearing madly about from pantry to
cellar, hunting out stored away goodies. Just as if anybody cared what
was on the table--none of us could eat, anyway. It was meat and drink
just to look at Jem. Mother seemed afraid to take her eyes off him lest
he vanish out of her sight. It is wonderful to have Jem back--and
little Dog Monday. Monday refuses to be separated from Jem for a
moment. He sleeps on the foot of his bed and squats beside him at
meal-times. And on Sunda