Yes, he was home again, back among the loved faces and caressing hands that he had dreamed about so long. He could hardly contain himself for joy and nearly wagged his stump tail off in his exuberance. Oh, if he could only speak and tell them everything!
True, this was a strange little house; all the surroundings were strange. But it was home at last! For here were his people, his dear people, and it is folks, after all, that count.
Gran’père understood dogs and knew that Pierrot was hurt, so as soon as he could get the dog and children quiet he brought Pierrot out into the moonlight and examined him.
“Pierrot has been a good soldier,” said he.
Then he sent Henri for the roll of bandages and the bottles. So you see the kind people across the sea must have heard of Pierrot, too.
“I fear he will always be lame,” said Gran’père. But the children did not seem to be greatly depressed by that. Neither did Pierrot, for that matter, for after he had eaten the crust of bread Mère Marie gave him, and had kissed them again all around, he stretched himself out on the edge of Henri’s worn, scorched quilt with a great happy sigh, and fell asleep, snoring loudly.
THE END
