'Is that dog yours?' he asked.
'Yes; his name is Lucky. That's a funny name, isn't it? It was very naughty of him to run away with your stick. I must punish him by not giving him any cake.'
She shook her head at Lucky, who was sitting up on his haunches with his tongue hanging out, watching his mistress with beseeching brown eyes.
Bobby looked at him severely.
'He is a robber! Poor Nobbles must have thought he was being taken off by a lion. I expec' he was dre'ffully frightened. You see, Nobbles isn't just a stick at all.'
'What is he? I see he has a wonderful head!'
'Yes; he's Nobbles.' He paused, then added impressively: 'He's my 'ticylar friend; we always live together. He understands all I say, but he can't speak.'
'I see.'
The lady smiled upon him very pleasantly, then she handed him a delicious plate of strawberries, and Bobby set to work at once. He thought he had never tasted anything so nice, and in the middle of it he looked up a little anxiously.
'Poor Nobbles can't eat at all. It's such a pity. He doesn't grumble, but when I have anyfing very nice he looks in his eyes as if he could cry; only he doesn't, for he never leaves off smiling.'