In the morning two or three other dogs were put into his yard, and though he wouldn't speak to them at all, and was too miserable to play, he heard what they said. One of them had been here before, and he explained that all the well-bred dogs, the good ones, were kept for a certain time to allow their people to come and find them, and if at the end of that time no one came for them they were sold; but the mongrels and little dogs that were of no value--well, it was very curious what happened to them. They went to sleep in a nice warm place like a drawer, but they never woke up again. They did not suffer at all, and it was all arranged very kindly. 'And of course,' said the dog who was speaking, 'it is quite right there should be some distinction between me and a mongrel!' She was very proud of herself, being a King Charles's spaniel, with soft brown and white hair and hanging ears and large goggle eyes. She came up to talk to Scamp after awhile; but he would not say anything to her, for his heart was sore within him. Yet what he had heard gave him some hope. All that day he sat with his face pressed close to the wires of the yard, watching, watching for his own people. Why did they not come? They must have known he would be there. Once two ladies came past--gentle, kind ladies of the sort to which he was accustomed--and he sat up and begged. 'Oh, look at that dear doggie!' cried one. 'We couldn't choose a nicer one; let us have him.' But when they inquired about him they found that Scamp was not for sale just yet. Then toward evening, when it was growing dusk, he suddenly heard a voice that made his heart leap, and he jumped up and whined with excitement, and Ethel cried: 'Oh, father, there he is! Don't you hear him?' And he was let out, and she went down on her knees to kiss and hug him, and he jumped about her so wildly that he nearly knocked her hat off. Surely there was never a happier little dog went home that night than Scamp!