sturber, and he
looked gently at the great dog, whose eyes were fixed enquiringly and
wistfully on his. "He's gone, old boy--gone--gone--gone--and, yes, the
place does seem lonely and sad."

The dog whined softly, and then looked sharply in his face again, before
turning to the door, forcing it open and passing through.

"Who'd ever have thought a dog would feel it so?" thought Marcus. "But
he does. He missed him directly, and he has gone to hunt for him.

"What, can't you find him, Lupe?" cried Marcus, as there came a
scratching at the door, which was forced open, and the dog came in
again, to utter a piteous whimper which increased into a howl.

"Poor old Lupe!" sighed Marcus. "Can't you find him, boy? No, and you
never will. I dare say he will never come back here again. Good old
dog!" he continued, taking hold of his ears and drawing the head into
his lap, to keep on caressing him and talking to him the while. "What
mistakes one makes! I used to think you such a surly, savage old
fellow, and here you are as miserable as I am, Lupe. Oh, he might have
let me go!"

The dog whined softly as it gazed wistfully in his eyes, and whined
again.

"Where's old Serge, Lupe? You haven't seen him since father went."

The dog growled.

"Oh, don't be cross with him, Lupe. I dare say he's as disappointed as
I am; but he will have to stay," continued the boy, bitterly, as he
uttered a mocking laugh, "and take care of the house and the servants
and all the things about the farm; and you will have to stay and help
him too. Just as if all these things were of any consequence at all.
There, get away; I can't make a fuss over you now. I feel half wild and
savage. I can't bear it, Lupe. It's too much--too much."

He thrust the dog's head roughly away, and Lupe stood up before him and
shook himself violently so that his ears rattled. Then, trotting
towards the door, he was stopped short, for the latch was in its place
and he tried to drag it open with his claws, but tried for some moments
in vain. Then showing plenty of intelligence, he trotted back to the
middle of the room, looked up anxiously in his young master's face, and
barked angrily.

"Oh, look here," cried Marcus, "I can't bear this. Be off!"

The dog trotted back to the door and scratched at it with his head
turned towards the boy the while; but Marcus was too full of his own
troubles to grasp the great animal's meaning, and, finding that he was
n