He put his hand on her shoulder, drawing her gently to lean against himself, for in her paroxysm of weeping she had thrown herself upon Avery with childish unrestraint.
"Who's been bullying you, Pixie?" he said.
"Nobody! Nobody!" sobbed Gracie. She transferred herself to his arms almost mechanically, so overwhelming was her woe. "Oh, it's dreadful! It's dreadful!" she cried.
He patted her soothingly, his cheek against her fair hair. "Well, what is it, kiddie? Let's hear! One of the youngsters in trouble, what? Not Jeanie, I say?"
"No, no, no! It's—Mike." The name came out with a great burst of tears.
"Mike!" Piers looked at Avery, mystified for the moment. "Ah, to be sure!
The dog! Well, what's happened to him? He isn't dead, what?"
"He is! He is!" sobbed Gracie. "He—he has been killed—by—by his own chain!"
"What!" said Piers again.
Gaspingly she told him the tragic tale. "Father always will have him kept on the chain, and—and—"
"An infernally cruel thing to do!" broke indignantly from Piers.