oin' a visitin'," all the more agreeable for the quiet
hour spent with Miss Celia. Thorny had improved wonderfully, and was
getting to be quite energetic, especially since his sister's accident;
for while she was laid up he was the head of the house, and much enjoyed
his promotion. But Ben did not seem to flourish as he had done at first.
The loss of Sancho preyed upon him sadly, and the longing to go and find
his dog grew into such a strong temptation that he could hardly resist
it. He said little about it; but now, and then a word escaped him which
might have enlightened any one who chanced to be watching him. No one
was, just then, so he brooded over this fancy, day by day, in silence
and solitude, for there was no riding and driving now. Thorny was busy
with his sister trying to show her that he remembered how good she had
been to him when he was ill, and the little girls had their own affairs.

Miss Celia was the first to observe the change, having nothing to do but
lie on the sofa and amuse herself by seeing others work or play. Ben was
bright enough at the readings, because then he forgot his troubles; but
when they were over and his various duties done, he went to his own room
or sought consolation with Lita, being sober and quiet, and quite unlike
the merry monkey all knew and liked so well.

"Thorny, what is the matter with Ben?" asked Miss Celia, one day, when
she and her brother were alone in the "green parlor," as they called the
lilac-tree walk.

"Fretting about Sanch, I suppose. I declare I wish that dog had never
been born! Losing him has just spoilt Ben. Not a bit of fun left in him,
and he won't have any thing I offer to cheer him up."

Thorny spoke impatiently, and knit his brows over the pressed flowers he
was neatly gumming into his herbal.

"I wonder if he has any thing on his mind? He acts as if he was hiding a
trouble he didn't dare to tell. Have you talked with him about it?"
asked Miss Celia, looking as if she was hiding a trouble she did not
like to tell.

"Oh, yes, I poke him up now and then, but he gets peppery, so I let him
alone. May be he is longing for his old circus again. Shouldn't blame
him much if he was; it isn't very lively here, and he's used to
excitement, you know."

"I hope it isn't that. Do you think he would slip away without telling
us, and go back to the old life again? Don't believe he would. Ben
isn't a bit of a sneak; that's why I like him."

"Have you ever f