The little yellow dog barked at him, but, paying no heed to the animal, Ben swooped down on the lad who held the line and scooped him up in his arms.
“Who is it, Roger?” asked Urian Eliot in surprise.
“Jerry,” said Roger—“he called him Jerry. Why, father, it must be Ben’s own brother.”
“His brother? Why, I didn’t know——”
“He told me about his brother,” explained Roger. “They were separated after Ben’s parents died. Jerry is blind.”
“Oh!” murmured Amy. “Isn’t that just dreadful! Blind and walking all alone with only a dog for company! We must take him in the car, papa.”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Eliot, opening the door and stepping out. “This is a most remarkable occurrence.”
In the meantime, Ben and Jerry—for it was indeed Ben’s unfortunate younger brother—were transported by the joy and surprise of the unexpected meeting. They clung to each other, laughing, crying and talking brokenly and incoherently. The little dog, who had at first seemed to fear some harm threatened its master, frisked back and forth before them, barking frantically, finally sitting up on its haunches with its forward paws drooping, its mouth open and its protruding tongue quivering; for at last it appeared to comprehend that there was really no danger, and this affair was one over which even a small yellow dog should laugh and be happy.
Roger had left the automobile likewise, and he came back to them, waiting near at hand until they should recover from the distracting excitement of the moment.
“Oh, Jerry!” choked Ben. “To find you here—I don’t understand it, Jerry.”