I was miserable. To be sure I had no right to expect Lily to like nobody but me, and I had nothing to complain of; every pleasure and comfort in life was mine. Indeed, I think a real grievance would have been rather pleasant to me. I should have liked an injustice. I was determined to sulk, and should have been glad to have something to sulk at. But no; people would persevere in being kind to me. I might be as ill-tempered as I pleased; nobody punished, or even scolded me; and whenever I chose to be in good humour, my friends were always ready to meet me half-way. Indeed, I never was quite sure whether they noticed my ill-temper or not. But I did not try to come round, though certainly sulking did not conduce to my comfort. I once heard my master remark, in reference to some disagreeable human being, that ill-tempered people made themselves more unhappy than they made others; so I suppose sulking does not always agree even with men; I know it does not with dogs. It was a wretched time. I continued to brood over my imaginary grievances, little thinking how soon they would be exchanged for real troubles. I had been discontented while every enjoyment was at my command, and now I was to wish in vain for the happiness I had neglected. And yet, in the point which I considered most important, I had my own way. I one day thought that if I were never again to see Lily caressing that kitten, I should be quite happy. I never again saw Lily caressing the kitten, and from that day my real sorrows began. There was a bustle in the house. Every thing seemed in confusion. Every body was doing something different from usual. Furniture and trunks were carried up and down stairs. My master's study was full of great chests; and he and Lily, instead of reading the books, spent all their time in hiding them in these chests. Next, my friend John came and nailed covers on the chests. After the first was nailed down, I jumped upon it, and sat watching John while he hammered the others; switching my tail, and winking my eyes at every stroke of his hammer, rather surprised at all that went on, but yet liking the bustle. "Ah, poor old boy," said John, "I wonder how you'll take it." "Take what?" thought I, and wondered too. One day, John and another man went out with the horses, each riding on one and leading another. Thinking they were going to exercise them, I followed as I often did; but when we came to the end of the village John ordered me home, saying, "Good bye, Captain. Don't forget us, old fellow." I returned according to his command, but felt very much puzzled, as John had never before sent me home.