"Dr. Medjora," said Leon, "you must not think that I am ungrateful, nor that I am too proud to accept your aid. I am only doing what I deem to be my duty after—after what has passed. Good-by."
"Good-by, Leon," said the Doctor, shaking his hand warmly.
Leon started away, and, passing along the path, was nearing the gate that led to the street, when suddenly he paused, turned, and quickly retraced his steps. He found the Doctor standing where he had parted from him. Rushing up the steps, he essayed to speak, but a sob choked his utterance, and it was with difficulty that he said:
"Lossy!" Then he stopped, looking anxiously at the Doctor. It was surely a pretty picture. The lad had not hesitated to cast himself against the rude pricks of Fate, but the recollection of his dog made him tremble.
"Lossy will be brought here this afternoon," said the Doctor. "I have already sent my man down to get him out of his box, and bring him. What do you wish me to do about him?"
"Oh, Doctor," exclaimed the boy, appealingly, "if you would only keep my dog! You were kind enough to buy him for me. But now—now—unless you will keep him awhile—why—why—" Here he broke down utterly and ceased to speak, while a tear-drop in each eye glistened in the sunlight which crossed his handsome features, illuminated by the love that welled up from his heart; love for this dumb beast that had been his friend for so long a time.
"I will keep Lossy for you, Leon," began the Doctor, but he was interrupted by Leon, who grasped his hand impulsively, crying:
"Heaven bless you, Doctor!"
"But, I will keep you, also, my boy," continued the Doctor, tightening his grasp of Leon's hand, so that he could not get away.
"No! No!" cried the lad.