The old lady cried a little, and prayed: “God bless them.”
And so they parted.
Early the next morning the Forces left Mondreer, taking the dog, Joshua, with them.
Wynnette had insisted on his coming.
“I promised him, papa,” she said—“I promised him; and it would be playing it too low to go back on a dumb brute—oh! I mean, dear papa, that it would seem base to break faith with a poor, confiding dog.”
So Joshua went.
“Look yere, ole woman,” said the lady from Wild Cats’, “I’m gwine to take the best of care of your house while you’re gone, and I want you to keep an eye on my rascal over yonder, while I keep a sharp lookout for him over here. He can’t be in both places at once; but wherever he is he will be at some deviltry—you may bet your pile on that.”
This was the lady’s last good-by to the departing family.
She watched the procession of three carriages that took them and all their luggage to the railway station, where Rosemary Hedge was to be brought by her mother and aunt to join them.
She watched them cross the lawn, and go out through the north gate, and disappear up the wooded road.