"Went further on? I s'pose. Yes, he said he might go as far as
California, and if he did he'd send for me. I'd like to go there; it's
a real splendid place, they say."

"He has gone further away than that, to a lovelier country than
California, I hope." And Miss Celia's eyes turned to the deep sky,
where early stars were shining.

"Didn't he send for me? Where's he gone? When's he coming back?" asked
Ben, quickly, for there was a quiver in her voice, the meaning of which
he felt before he understood.

Miss Celia put her arms about him, and answered very tenderly:

"Ben, dear, if I were to tell you that he was never coming back, could
you bear it?"

"I guess I could--but you don't mean it? Oh, ma'am, he isn't dead?"
cried Ben, with a cry that made her heart ache, and Sancho leap up with
a bark.

"My poor little boy, I _wish_ I could say no."

There was no need of any more words, no need of tears or kind arms
round him. He knew he was an orphan now, and turned instinctively to
the old friend who loved him best. Throwing himself down beside his
dog, Ben clung about the curly neck, sobbing bitterly:

"Oh, Sanch, he's never coming back again; never, never any more!"