Perforce, Lad was thrown more and more on the society of the
Mistress and the Master. And, in their friendship, he was
happy;--until he would chance to see his mate and his little son
playing in wild ecstasy with a stick or ball, and would frisk
bulkily over to join them. In a bare second or two, the demeanor
of both showed him just what a grossly unwelcome interloper he
was.

Whereat, after a wistfully miserable glance from one to the other
of the exclusive pair, Lad would trot slowly back to his human
deities; and. with a queerly sobbing little sigh, he would curl
up at the Mistress's feet.

"It's a shame, Laddie!" declared the Mistress, at one such time.
"It's a SHAME! Why, you are worth a million of those crazy
playdogs! You're a million times wiser and beautifuller and more
lovable. Why do you bother with them? Master and I are ever so
much better company for you; and we love to have you with us.
Stay right here, and forget them."

Lad, perhaps, understood the actual meaning of one word in ten of
the advice. But he understood and loved the Mistress's sweet
voice and the caress of her cool little hand; and the sympathy in
her tone. It all meant much to Laddie. Very much indeed. And he
laid his mighty head against her knee; happy in the comfort of
touch and voice.

Nevertheless, that wistful glint was ever lurking in his deep-set
eyes, nowadays. And his gayly trumpeting bark rang out less often