Bruno did not move, but lay blinking at his mistress, and whined uneasily.
“He has been fighting with some one who had a big stick then,” said Mrs Hampton shortly. “Look the poor dog’s head is all swollen up, and there’s a great cut here.”
“My poor old Bruno?” cried Gertrude, going on her knees beside the dog, and taking one of his paws, when the brute whined feebly, and made a faint effort to lick her hand.
“Yes, he has a bad cut upon his head,” said Denton, as she closely examined the place; “and it has been bleeding terribly. Poor fellow! I’ll call cook to help carry him away, and we’ll bathe it.”
“No,” said Gertrude decisively; “he was dear uncle’s favourite, and he shall be treated as a friend. Let him stop here, Denton. Draw the mat into this corner, and put another thick mat beside it.”
This was done, the mat slipping easily over the smooth floor, with its load; and after submitting patiently to the domestic surgery of his mistress and the old housekeeper, Bruno once more tried to lick the former’s hand and closed his eyes in sleep.
“There,” said Gertrude, with business-like cheerfulness, as the basin, sponge, and towels used were removed. “Now, Denton, I think you really ought to go and waken your master.”
“Yes, miss,” said the old lady, after giving Mrs Hampton an inquiring look, responded to by a shake of the head.
The old housekeeper seemed to catch that shake of the head, and she went upstairs while Gertrude led the way back to the dining-room, and looked carefully over the table to see that the maid had removed all that was untidy, and left the place attractive-looking for her master, when he should come down.
“Labour in vain, my dear,” said Mrs Hampton, with a quaint smile. “He’ll want nothing but a cup of the strongest tea; and don’t let him have any spirits in it if he asks.”