"You shall see him in the morning," they told her. Kathleen put the little dog down forcibly from the arms of the child, who wailed at the separation. She called back over the balusters: "_Love_-li-ness! Good-by, Loveliness! When we're grown up, we'll _al_ways be togever, Loveliness!" The dog barked rebelliously for a few minutes; then sighed, and accepted the situation. He ran back and picked up the pamphlet which Kathleen had dropped, and carried it upstairs to the professor's study, where he laid it on the lowest shelf of the revolving bookcase. The professor glanced at the dog-eared pages and smiled. The pamphlet was one of the innumerable throng issued by some philanthropic society devoted to improving the condition of animals. When Kathleen came downstairs she found the dog standing at the front door, patiently asking that it might be opened for him. She went down the steps; for it was the rule of the house never to allow the most helpless member of the family at liberty unguarded. The evening was soft, and the maid stood looking idly about. A man in a yellow jersey, and with straight, black eyebrows, was on the other side of the street; but he did not look over. The suburban town was still and pleasant; advancing spring was in the air; no one was passing; only a negro boy lolled on the old-fashioned fence, and shouted: "Hi! Yi! Yi! Look a' dem crows carryin' off a b'iled pertater 'n' a piecer squushed pie!" [Illustration: THE MAID STOOD LOOKING IDLY ABOUT] Kathleen, for very vacuity of mind, turned to look. Neither potatoes nor squash pie were to be seen careering through the skies; nor, in fact, were there any crows. "I'll have yez arrested for sarse and slander!" cried Kathleen vigorously. But the negro boy had disappeared. So had the man in the yellow jersey. "Where's me dog?" muttered Kathleen. It was dipping dusk; it was deepening to dark. She called. Loveliness was an obedient little fellow always; but he did not reply. The maid called again; she examined the front yard and the premises,--slowly, for she was afraid to go in and tell. With the imbecility of the timid and the erring, she took too much time in a fruitless and unintelligent search before she went, trembling, into the house. Kathleen felt that this was the greatest emergency that had occurred since the baby was burned. She went straight to the master's door. "God have mercy on me, but I've lost the little dog, sir!" The professor wheeled around in his study chair. "There was a nigger and a squashed crow--but indeed I never left the little dog, as you bid me, sir--I never left him for the space of me breath between me lips--and when I draws it in the little dog warn't nowhere.... Oh, whatever'll _she_ say? Whatever'll _she_ do? Mother of God, forgive me soul! Who'll tell _her_?" Who indeed?