“Pooh, pooh!” cried he, “it’s only brought up by the south-easterly wind and will be cleared off by the morning, when you’ll probably have a hotter day than ever.”
This allayed Mrs Strong’s forebodings in reference to the weather, and she began to wonder what had become of Bob during their absence.
“He must have found the day very long, poor boy!” she said. “I wonder what he has been doing?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’s been amusing himself,” replied the Captain cheerfully. “I don’t think Bob would remain dull very long if even left alone.”
The same thoughts were passing through the minds both of Nellie and her aunt, although they said nothing; and all were looking forward to their conjectures being solved as to how Bob had passed the time when they should arrive at “the Moorings.”
However, on coming to the house, who should greet them but Rover, who got up languidly from the doorstep, his coat all dripping with wet.
“Poor doggie!” exclaimed Nell, patting him. “Why, you’re all damp with the fog! Your master shouldn’t have been so cruel as to leave you outside. Where’s Bob?”
Usually on being asked this question, Rover’s invariable answer would be a short, sharp, joyous bark; but now, in place of this, the retriever put up his head and uttered a plaintive whine that was almost a howl.
It struck dismay into all their hearts; and on Sarah’s opening the door at the same moment, Nell’s question to the dog was now put to her.
“Where’s Master Bob?”