In brief, Lady and little Wolf became inseparable companions;--
this to the semi-exclusion of Lad.

The great collie did not resent this exclusion; nor did he try to
regain his fast-slipping hold on Wolf's affections. Yet, in
fashion that was more pathetic than ludicrous, he sought to win
back Lady's waning affection. A bit clumsily, he tried to romp
and gambol with her, as did Wolf. He tried to interest her, as of
yore, in following his lead in break-neck forest gallops after
rabbits or in gloriously exhilarating swims in the fire-blue lake
at the foot of the lawn. To the pityingly on-looking Mistress and
Master, he seemed like some general or statesman seeking to
unbend in the games and chatter of a party of high school boys
and girls.

But it was no use.

True, in the cross-country runs or the swirling charges after
rabbits, neither Lady nor Wolf could keep up with Lad's flying
stride. And a long swim, which scarce breathed Lad, would exhaust
either or both of them.

But, they were young; and he was middle-aged. And, as in human
relationships, that one sentence told the whole tragic story.

As well expect a couple of flyaway children to give up a game of
tag in order to listen to the solemn discourse of an elderly
uncle; as to make the fun-loving Lady and Wolf widen their
selfish comradeship to include in it the steadier and older and
infinitely wiser Lad.