He regarded her sorrowfully. Till that moment Fancy had been happy and light-hearted. Uncle had cheered her up. And his parting remark was uplifting and unmistakable. God had seen fit to use her, Fancy Yellam, as a humble instrument whereby Uncle's thirst for ale became less importunate. A warm glow suffused her small body. And now, suddenly, she felt chilled, uneasy, unhappy, merely because a dog gazed mournfully at her, as if he, the wicked little sinner, were grieving for her. Did he know that pain was coming to her inexorably? As the thought assailed her mind, so swiftly that she winced, Solomon's tail flickered. Not in joyousness. She divined that. In some uncanny fashion he was encouraging her to accept this thought of pain, to confront it valiantly, not to shrink from it. "Do you know, Sol?" she whispered. His tail flickered again. He leaped into her lap, and laid his head upon her bosom. She could feel his heart beating; her own heart beat with it. Was this another amazing proof of fool-wisdom? Peace came back to her. Humbly, she committed herself to the keeping of Omnipotence, thinking intently of her mother. Solomon never moved. She was intimately sensible that this dumb creature comforted her. She glanced into the shadows of the kitchen. Had her mother's face and figure formed themselves out of those shadows, she would not have been surprised or frightened. She expected to see her. The conviction stole slowly upon her that the mother stood near her, invisible, but a powerful protector. And from her would radiate hope and faith and love. She would be with her in her travailings.... Presently, another thought stole upon her. As Mrs. Yellam said, Fancy had never seen her mother in the flesh. It seemed so cruel that she should have been taken at a moment when tiny lips were wailing for what she alone could give. From a child she had wanted her mother. To-night, for the first time, it flashed into her mind that, perhaps, her mother had wanted her--desperately. Just as she wanted her child. How bitter a disappointment it must be to forego the tender ministrations, the sweet services which only women know, and which, in their fool-wisdom, they count dearer than anything the world can bestow. If--if anything went wrong, she would join her mother.... Solomon lay motionless, but his heart went on throbbing. Why? A last thought, the greatest, seemed to float direct from her mother's mind to hers. Alfred was facing death, daily, with a laugh, facing, too, the possibility of grinding pain. As a soldier's wife, she must try to be brave, like him.... Solomon moved restlessly, and then sprang to the floor. He wagged his tail briskly, as he took up a commanding position near the door. Mrs. Yellam was approaching the cottage. If Fancy opened the door and looked out, she would not see her because it was dark. But she would not hear her, either. And if she called, Mrs. Yellam would not answer, being, as yet, too far away. But Solomon knew.