"What is it, Bruno?"
His eyes had a sorrowful look, she thought. "What is it, what do you want?"
He tugged again at her skirt.
"Well, come on. Though I've stacks of lessons to learn. Look at all those books."
She dropped them on the step, and followed the dog. Up the winding path, and now there was water enough for a musical trickle over the stones.
There was Balder's basin, where he was so fond of disporting himself after the rains filled it up. Oh, what was that lying on the side, that still white thing glistening in the sunshine!
"Bruno?" She stamped her foot and looked upbraidingly at him. Had he been playing roughly with her pet? Oh, what was the meaning of these blood-stained feathers about his neck! She flung herself down beside him. The eyes were dull and partly closed. She stroked the white feathers with tender hands.
"Bruno, I shall never love you again, never! Oh, how could you!"
He took a few steps away. Then he dragged some tumbled gray thing to her feet. Why, that was a fox, with his bushy tail. They had been hunted a good deal and were giving civilization a rather wide berth.
She looked at the dog, who told the story with his eyes as he glanced from one to the other. She reached up and put her arms about his neck.