ld than this," I said: "are
you quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?"

He rose and sat down again. "I wanted to know you," he replied slowly,
"I wanted to be like you."

"And now you know me," I said, "do you want to be like me still? I am a
curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't you see that even
David often smiles at me when he thinks he is unobserved. I work very
hard to retain that little boy's love; but I shall lose him soon; even
now I am not what I was to him; in a year or two at longest, Paterson,
David will grow out of me."

The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but "No," said I, "you have
found me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, and that is why the
loss of him makes such a difference to me. Shall we go, Paterson?"

He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I was far
away I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly.

For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, I knew
not what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike the dark, and I
switched on the light and slept at last. I was roused by a great to-do
in the early morning, servants knocking excitedly, and my door opened,
and the dear Porthos I had mourned so long tore in. They had heard his
bark, but whence he came no one knew.

He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon me from all
points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, and lay down beside
him, while he put his protecting arm round me and looked at me with the
old adoring eyes.

But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose.

XXII. Joey

Wise children always choose a mother who was a shocking flirt in
her maiden days, and so had several offers before she accepted their
fortunate papa. The reason they do this is because every offer refused
by their mother means another pantomime to them. You see you can't trust
to your father's taking you to the pantomime, but you can trust to
every one of the poor frenzied gentlemen for whom that lady has wept a
delicious little tear on her lovely little cambric handkerchief. It is
pretty (but dreadfully affecting) to see them on Boxing Night gathering
together the babies of their old loves. Some knock at but one door and
bring a hansom, but others go from street to street in private 'buses,
and even wear false noses to conceal the sufferings you inflict upon
them as you grew more and more like your sweet cruel mamma.

So I took