“Leave Moufflou?” said Lolo, “why, I never leave him; he wouldn't know what to do without me all the afternoon.” “Yes, leave him,” said his mother. “I don't want you to take him with you. Don't let me tell you again.” So Lolo turned around and went down the stairs, feeling very sad at leaving his dear Moufflou even for a short time. But the hours went by, and when night-time came he hurried back to the little old home. He stood at the bottom of the long, dark stairway and called “Moufflou! Moufflou!” but no doggie came; then he climbed half-way up to the landing and called again, “Moufflou!” but no little white feet came pattering down. Up to the top of the stairs went poor tired Lolo and opened the door. “Why, where is my Moufflou?” he said. The mother had been crying, and she looked very sad and did not answer him for a moment. “Where is my Moufflou?” asked Lolo again, “what have you done with my dear Moufflou?” “He is sold,” the mother said at last, “sold to the gentleman who has the little lame boy. He came here to-day, and he likes the dog so much and his little boy was so pleased at the pretty tricks he does, that he told me he would give a great deal of money if I would sell him the dog. Just think, Lolo, he gave me so much money that we can pay somebody now to go to the war for Tasso.” But before she had finished talking, Lolo began to grow white and cold and to waver to and fro, so that his little crutch could hardly support him. When she had done he called out, “My Moufflou--my Moufflou sold!” and he threw his hands up over his head and fell all in a heap on the floor, his poor little crutch clattering down beside him. His mother took him up and laid him on his bed, but all night long he tossed to and fro, calling for his dog. When the morning came, his little hands and his head were very, very hot, and by and by the doctor came and said he had a fever. He asked the mother what it was the little boy was calling for, and she told him that it was his dog, and that he had been sold. The doctor shook his head, and then went away. Day after day poor Lolo lay on his bed. His hair had been cut short, he did not know his brothers and sisters, nor his mother, and his little aching head went to and fro, to and fro, on the pillow from morning till night. Once Tasso went to the hotel to find the gentleman. He was going to tell him to take the money and give him back the dog; but the gentleman had gone many miles away on the cars and taken Moufflou with him. So every day Lolo grew weaker, until the doctor said that he must die very soon.