"Perhaps we can buy another white dog in Paris," Mrs. Acheson suggested to Canon Percival.
"Oh no! that would not answer. I don't think you want any more trouble, and if poor old Nino was troublesome sometimes, a young successor would be certain to be ten times more troublesome. As a rule, dogs are unwelcome visitors in other people's houses, and Lady Burnside may dislike the race. I am sorry for Dorothy's trouble, and for the poor little creature's end, but, as Ingleby says, there are worse sorrows than the loss of a dog."
"I suppose he was drowned at once," Mrs. Acheson said; "I do hope he did not struggle long for life."
"He was probably sucked under the steamer, and it would be over directly, let us hope." Then Canon Percival pulled his travelling-cap over his eyes, and was soon wrapped in profound slumber.
When the party arrived at Paris at Meurice's Hotel, Dorothy's tears broke forth afresh, and she had to be conveyed to her room by poor Ingleby, followed by Irene, who carried Miss Belinda and a number of other miscellaneous articles.
Mrs. Acheson, tired and worn out, was forbidden by Canon Percival to go to Dorothy, and again and again did Mrs. Acheson wish that she had followed her brother's advice, and left poor Nino at home.
It was not till the two children were left together, after partaking of crescent-shaped rolls and coffee, that Irene ventured to say anything to Dorothy.
"Don't cry any more, Dorothy; it makes other people so unhappy—and," said Irene, wisely, "it won't bring Nino back!"
"I know that! I know that! What do you tell me that for? Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
"Well," Irene said, "I want to tell you anything which will make you try to stop crying."