She flew to the garden to see Victor astride the wall holding the little dog.
“Mamma consents, Victor,” cried Lucie as soon as she was within hearing, “but there is this condition: that if you want him when you return from the war I am to give him back to you.”
“That is good,” returned Victor. “I confess, Lucie, that I am very fond of the little creature and I shall go off with better heart for knowing he is in good hands.” He climbed down from the wall, lifted down Pom Pom and placed him in Lucie’s arm. “This is your new mistress. Pom Pom,” he said, “you must be a good dog and mind her.”
Pom Pom looked questioningly from one to the other, whining a little but accepting the situation, for he did not attempt to leave Lucie’s arms.
“Come with me,” begged Lucie, “and help me to make peace with Mousse. Pom Pom will not hurt him, you think?”
“Not if I tell him he must not. He is very obedient.”
Lucie looked a little troubled. “I wish I could say the same of Mousse, still he is most intelligent and I do not believe he will mind very much. He is really fonder of Paulette than of me, so I don’t believe he will be very jealous.” She looked down lovingly and stroked the dog’s soft head, Victor regarding them both soberly.
“Shall I bring your flowers?” asked Victor presently. “You have dropped them all.”
“O, yes, please do. I forgot all about them in thinking of Pom Pom,” responded Lucie.
He gathered up the scattered blossoms and followed her along the path to the house.