"I wonder, Lossy, how you will do in a great city? Will you miss the old place, as I suppose I shall? Will you mind being penned up in a little yard, with strict orders not to come into the grand house? Will you miss going after the cows, and the sheep? Will you miss your swims in the lake?" He paused again, but Lossy was looking away much as a human being would who tried to hide his feelings. For there is little doubt that when a dog acts thus, in some mysterious way he comprehends his master's trouble, and shares it. "Never you mind, old fellow," Leon continued, "you sha'n't be entirely forgotten. I'll look out for you. The nights will be ours, and what fun we shall have. We'll go off together on long walks, and if there is any country near enough, why we'll go there sometimes on Sundays. For we don't care about church, do we, old boy? No, sir! The open fields, with the green grass, and the trees, and the birds, and the bright sunlight is all the church we need, isn't it, old doggy?" He stopped, and as his voice had grown somewhat more cheerful, the dog vouchsafed to look at him timidly. Seeing encouragement, he wagged his tail a few times. "Come, sir," said Leon, "I am talking to you. Don't you hear? Answer my question. Speak, sir! Speak!" "Whow! Whow! Whow-Whow!" answered Lossy, barking lustily. But Leon held up his finger in warning, and he ceased. "What do you mean by all that noise?" said Leon. "Don't you understand that this is a confidential conversation? Now, sir! Answer me again, but softly! softly!"
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" answered Lossy, in tones as near a whisper as can be compassed by a dog.
"Very well, sir!" said Leon. "That's better. Much better. We don't want to attract a crowd, so the less noise we make the better for us."
But, alas! The boy's warning came too late. Miss Matilda Grath had seen Leon go towards the barn, and when she heard the dog's loud barking, a sudden idea had come to her, which thrilled her cruel heart with anticipation of pleasure. So much so indeed, that she at once left the vicinity of the auctioneer, where her interests were, and hurried out to the barn, surprising Leon by her unwelcome presence.
"What are you doin' out here all by yourself?" she asked.
"I am not doing anything, Miss Grath!" replied Leon mildly, hoping to mollify her. A vain hope!
"Miss Grath!" she repeated sneeringly. "Don't you Miss Grath me. I an't to be molly-coddled by the likes o' you. I wanter know what you're doin' out here, when everybody's to the auction. You an't up to no good, I'll warrant. Now up an' tell me! An' no lies, or it will be the worst for you."
"I don't know what you're aiming at. I came out here to be alone, that is all!"
"Oh! You wanted to be alone, did you? Well, that's the right way for you to feel, anyway. The company of decent folks an't for the likes o' you." She paused, expecting an angry retort, but failing to obtain the desired excuse for proceeding in the diabolical design which she was bent upon executing, she continued in a worse temper. "You needn't think you kin fool me with your smooth talkin'. I know you, and I know what you're up to!"
"Well, if you know, why did you ask me?" said Leon, stung into something like anger.