"Yes, Boonie can go," answered Julius.
Then Bruno, who had long since learned to understand the difference between "go" and "stay," went bounding down the walk, leaped over the gate, and began rushing back and forth along in front of the lot, giving short barks of delight. Julius called him back, and he came rather crestfallen, thinking he was, after all, to "stay;" but it was only that I might hug him and tell him, "Good-bye, you must be a good doggie!"
This puzzled him; but his bewilderment was soon forgotten in the fact that he was really and truly to "go." When Julius returned an hour later, he told me he had slipped away while Mr. and Mrs. Nimrod were petting Bruno, and so had escaped a formal leave-taking. I was glad of this, for I had dreaded their parting.
In spite of the fact that I was the one to attend to Bruno's wants—that he always came to me when hungry or thirsty, and that I never disciplined him as Julius sometimes did,—still he showed in many ways that Julius's place in his heart was far above mine. So I was relieved that there had been no good-byes.
We were both entirely engrossed for the next few days by getting moved and settled. In spite of busy hands, I had many times felt a tugging at the heart-strings for the absent Bruno. I said nothing about it, though; and Julius afterwards confessed that he too had felt longings, but had suppressed them for fear of upsetting me, just as I had concealed my feelings on his account.
On the afternoon of the fourth day Julius could stand it no longer; he must have some news of Bruno. So he looked up Mr. Nimrod.
Before he could ask any questions, Mr. Nimrod began,—
"What did you feed that dog, anyway?"
"Why, the same things we ate," answered Julius, in surprise; "whatever there was on the table."
"Well, he won't eat anything for us. We've tried everything we could think of. What does he like best?"