“She is sweet,” Antoinette murmured dreamily.
“But we love Antoinette, eh Toto?”
The dog licked his master’s fingers in agreement while the girl laughed with pleasure. For years the two had lived here in this house built by François and his father. At first there had been the three of them but now there was but the girl and her brother. François earned enough money by his work in logging camps during certain months of the year to keep the little farm running smoothly. Toto was the very last addition to their mansion and he was the gayest of company for the girl when her brother was away.
In the other little room Gale sat up in the bed and stared out the small window at the snow. The ground was white in the moonlight, and unbroken save for the path from the door of the cabin. She clasped her knees in her arms and rested her chin on them. Her eyes were dark, like the waters of a bottomless pool. She didn’t cry any more. Her tears were all gone; instead had come a queer sort of fatality. She realized now that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t remove that gray blanket from her thoughts. It was as if she had never known anything but this day, as if there had never been any yesterdays. She knew nothing beyond the walls of this cabin, and no one but Antoinette and her brother.
Gale lay back on her pillow and stared up at the darkness. Her heart was heavy and she felt listless. Suppose her memory never came back? With a little sense of comfort she remembered the French girl’s words of earlier that evening.
“Chérie, you must not weep. A little time and everything will be well again.”
She must believe that! The thought that somewhere there might be someone looking for her, she not knowing where they were, unable to go to them, made her heart beat longingly.
Her hand had been hanging over the side of the bed and now something cold and wet was pushed into it. With a little startled cry she pulled away until in the moonlight she saw the form of woolly Toto. In his exploring the household for a warm friendly place to spend the night, he had come into her room. She patted the bed beside her and with difficulty, for his legs were rather short and clumsy yet, he jumped up into her arms and snuggled close.
In the morning Antoinette found them, the dog still curled in the crook of Gale’s arm, both sound asleep. She smiled to herself and gently lifted the dog to the floor. He let out a protesting grunt at being roused from his delicious slumbers and Gale opened her eyes.
“Bad Toto!” Antoinette scolded. “Waking Chérie. You are wicked!”