Lucie looked up through her tears. “But Odette, I love you.”
Odette smiled rather sadly. “Not as you do Pom Pom. You would not weep if you were to lose me out of your days. Don’t cry, Lucie. Let us go out and look for him. This is such an unusual occasion that I think we need not ask permission. We will need to go only around the neighborhood.”
It was a comfort to Lucie that she could make some active effort toward looking for the little dog, but though they went from dairy to bakery, from bakery to butcher shop, and so on the rounds no one had seen or heard anything of the lost Pom Pom. So they returned quite hopeless and discouraged, and Lucie spent a melancholy day.
Odette tried to comfort her as best she could, succeeding in making her laugh more than once, though immediately she would lapse into a fit of weeping. “I shouldn’t care so much if I could know he would be well cared for,” she mourned. “A little dumb beast is so helpless; he cannot tell his troubles if he is neglected and ill treated. He has never known anything but kindness.”
“Then he is better off than many human beings,” returned Odette somberly.
Lucie looked at her through her tears. “Odette, are you ill treated?” she asked.
“I suppose one should not mind harsh words, and should not call oneself ill treated who has nothing more than that, but, you see, even your dog wanted affection, and you are mourning because you think he has none, or, perhaps, has none, while I—there is not a soul on earth to give me a word of love, much less a caress.”
Lucie moved close up to her and put her arms tightly around her. “My little Odette,” she whispered, “my dear Odette whom I love. I shall miss my dear dog, but I am thankful that I have you, my friend.”
“Lucie, Lucie,” murmured Odette, “you do not know how I love you, how I have longed to have you love me. I am only a little peasant girl, but I can be faithful and true. Do you know that many times when I have seen you fondling your dog I have wished that I, too, were a dog, for then some one might be as good to me as you were to Pom Pom.”
“That seems very sad,” returned Lucie, “but it is better to be a friend than a dog, and that you are and always will be. Do you know what I think, Odette? I think when this war is over that it would be a fine thing for you to go back with us to our town. We must see about that. I shall talk of it to Paulette who already likes you so much. She is not one to take fancies, but she has said to me: ‘She is a bright one, that Odette. With a little training and experience she will do well,’ and that is a great deal for Paulette to say, for she is very chary of her praise.”