as pleased as pleased.

"Do you see how he knows us already, Archie?" said Persis. "Isn't he
_too_ sweet? Couldn't you really think the fairies had sent him to be
our very own?"

We could scarcely eat any breakfast, and the moment it was over we
dragged mamma out to look at him. She was as nearly much taken with him
as we were, we could see, only she said one thing which I wished she
hadn't.

"How unhappy his owners must be at having lost him!" it was.

And then she began talking about what could be done to find them.
Persis and I didn't say anything. We wouldn't speak even to each other
about what we both knew deep down in our hearts--we wouldn't even think
of it.

Papa was not to be back till the next day. Nothing could be done till he
came, any way, so all that day Persis and I had the full happiness of
Bruno. He was so good and obedient and seemed so perfectly at home with
us, that we even ventured to take him out a walk, though not of course a
very long one. He gambolled over the moor with us, seemingly as happy as
could be, and the very moment we called him back he came. It was
wonderful how he seemed to know his name, especially when we called it
out rather long, making the last "o" sound a good deal--"Bru_no_--_o_,"
like that, you know. Oh, he was so delightful! All our fancies about
having a dog seemed nothing compared to the reality.

The next day papa came back. He was almost as pleased with Bruno as we
were.

"Yes," he said, after looking him well over, "he is a beauty and no
mistake. A collie of the very best kind. But some one or other must be
in trouble about him."

"That's just what I have been saying," mamma put in. "If this weren't
such an out-of-the-way place, no doubt we should have seen
advertisements about him."

"I'll look in the local papers," said papa.

And that evening when we were at tea, he came in with a little
thin-looking newspaper in his hand, which he seemed to be searching all
through for something. Persis and I shivered, but we didn't dare to say
much.

"Have you been at Local, papa?" I asked. "Is it far from here?"

"Been at where?" papa said. "What in the world is the child talking
about?"

Papa has _rather_ a sharp way sometimes, but he doesn't mean it, so we
don't mind.

"At Local," I said again, "the place where you said there was a
newspaper. Is it anywhere near the station?" (I _hoped_ of course it was
not, for the nearer the station the more likely that the