"What is it, my darling?" she asked, going in. "Is your ear feeling badly again?"
"Not so very, mamma," said Maggie, "but—please put your head down close, mamma, so Bessie wont wake up—I do feel so very, very badly about Flossy. If I knew somebody had him who would be kind to him, I think I could try to bear it, but I know they will hurt him and tease him, and he'll have such a hard time. I know he'll be homesick, too—oh, dear—and I can't go to sleep, 'cause I think so much about him, and I don't want Bessie to know it."
Mamma sat down on the bed and comforted Maggie, and then, holding her hand, began to tell her a story which she took care not to make too interesting, until presently the little hand which held her own loosened its grasp, and Maggie's regular breathing showed that she had forgotten her trouble.
All this made Mr. Bradford resolve that he would spare no pains to recover Flossy, and the next morning he went to the police-station, and asking the name and beat of the man who had brought in his little daughter, went in search of him. He was soon found, and told where he had met Bessie; but he had been able to learn nothing of the lost dog. Mr. Bradford inquired all about the neighborhood in vain; the boys whom he met either could not or would not answer his questions. He offered a reward to whoever could tell anything that would lead to the recovery of the dog, and when he went down town, put an advertisement in the papers saying the same thing.
But three days passed, and still no word came of Flossy. On the fourth morning, the family were all at breakfast, when Patrick, who was passing through the hall, heard a scratching and whining at the front-door. He hurried to open it, and Flossy rushed in, ran through the hall into the breakfast-room, and before any one had recovered from their first surprise, scrambled into Maggie's lap, buried his face under her arm, and lay trembling and whimpering with joy. Poor little fellow! he was in a sad state. His glossy silken coat was all matted and dirty; he looked thin and half-starved; his pretty red collar, with its brass lettering, was gone, and around his neck the hair was rubbed off, as if it had been worn by a rope, and his mouth was cut and bleeding. Papa said he thought he had been tied up, and in his struggles to free himself, had worn the hair from his neck, and cut his mouth with gnawing at the rope.
The children cried and laughed over him by turns, hugged and kissed him, and although it was against mamma's rules to feed him in the dining-room, begged that they might do it for this once. Permission was given, and then they wanted to stuff him with everything that was on the table; but mamma said they must be careful, or he would be sick, so a saucer of warm bread and milk was brought and put on the hearth, and glad enough the poor puppy was to have it. But he would not eat unless Maggie's hand was on him, and every now and then he would stop to look up in her face with a low whine, as if he wanted to tell her his pitiful story. Afterwards he was well washed, and then, wrapped in his blanket, went to sleep in Maggie's lap. He woke up quite refreshed, but for a day or two, did not care to play much, content to lie most of the time in Maggie's or Bessie's arms, or curled up in a ball in some comfortable corner. But after this long rest, and several good meals, to say nothing of a great amount of petting, he began to bark and act like himself, and was once more the bright, merry, affectionate plaything he had been before.
Where he had been, or how he had escaped from those who had treated him so cruelly, was never known, but every one thought it quite wonderful that so young a dog, and one who had been such a short time in the house, could have found his way home alone.
