ed with her, she fairly laughed with delight.

In short, she was faithful with that faith of which only a dog is
capable--that unquestioning faith to which even the most loving women
never quite attain.

However, Fate was annoyed at this perfect friendship. It didn't give her
enough to do, and Fate is a restless thing with a horrible appetite for
variety. So poor Nita died one day mysteriously, and gave her last
look to Cecil as a matter of course; and he held her paws till the last
moment, as a stanch friend should, and laid her away decently in a pine
box in the cornfield, where he could be shielded from public view if he
chose to go there now and then and sit beside her grave.

He went to bed very lonely, indeed, the first night. The shack seemed
to him to be removed endless miles from the other habitations of men.
He seemed cut off from the world, and ached to hear the cheerful little
barks which Nita had been in the habit of giving him by way of good
night. Her amiable eye with its friendly light was missing, the gay wag
of her tail was gone; all her ridiculous ways, at which he was never
tired of laughing, were things of the past.

He lay down, busy with these thoughts, yet so habituated to Nita's
presence, that when her weight rested upon his feet, as usual, he felt
no surprise. But after a moment it came to him that as she was dead the
weight he felt upon his feet could not be hers. And yet, there it was,
warm and comfortable, cuddling down in the familiar way. He actually
sat up and put his hand down to the foot of the bed to discover what
was there. But there was nothing there, save the weight. And that stayed
with him that night and many nights after.

It happened that Cecil was a fool, as men will be when they are young,
and he worked too hard, and didn't take proper care of himself; and so
it came about that he fell sick with a low fever. He struggled around
for a few days, trying to work it off, but one morning he awoke only to
the consciousness of absurd dreams. He seemed to be on the sea, sailing
for home, and the boat was tossing and pitching in a weary circle, and
could make no headway. His heart was burning with impatience, but the
boat went round and round in that endless circle till he shrieked out
with agony.

The next neighbors were the Taylors, who lived two miles and a half
away. They were awakened that morning by the howling of a dog before
their door. It was a hideous sound and would giv