Julius and I had been in the habit of taking evening walks, and as Bruno stayed with me through the day when Julius was gone, it was his only chance for a run.

One evening, when Julius came home, it had been raining, and I felt that it would not do for me to go out.

"You'd better take Boonie for a little run, though," I said; "he has been in the house all day."

"I have an errand down at the corner," answered Julius, "and he can race around the square while I am attending to it. You won't be afraid?"

"Not for that little while; you will be back again before I have time to miss you."

Julius went into the hall for his overcoat and hat.

"Come on, Boonie," he said; "Boonie can go."

Bruno bounced up, all excitement, showing how he had felt the confinement. He dashed into the hall, where Julius was putting on his overcoat, then came trotting back into the sitting-room and stood, ears erect, looking at me and wagging his tail. I understood him, and answered,—

"No, Boonie; Judith must stay. Just Julius and Boonie are going."

He knew us only by the names he heard us call each other.

He sat down at my feet, all his excitement gone.

"Come, Boonie," called Julius from the door. "Come on, Boonie's going!"

Bruno looked at him, wagged his tail, looked at me, and refused to stir.

"Don't you see?" I said; "he thinks I ought not to be left alone." Then to him, "Go on, Boonie; Boonie must go. Judith isn't afraid."

He looked gratefully at me, and wagged his tail, saying plainly, in his dog-fashion,—

"Thank you, but I'd rather not."

Julius waxed impatient.

"You Boon! come along, sir! come on!" he thundered. Bruno's ears and tail drooped. He looked up sideways in a deprecating manner at Julius, then came and laid his head on my knee. It was of no use. Neither threats nor coaxing could move him. Noble creature! His ideas of chivalry were not to be tampered with, even by those who were his gods, his all!

The next morning at breakfast I said to Julius,—

"I am afraid Bruno will be ill staying in-doors so closely. Can't you take him for a little run before you go to the office?"

"Yes," answered Julius, "I'll take him if he'll go."

"Oh, he'll go fast enough. Dinah is here, and he will think it safe to leave me."

Bruno was delighted at the invitation, and went tearing around the square four times while Julius walked it once; then came in, hot and happy, to tell Catsie and me all about it.

There was something so peculiarly tender about our feelings for Bruno and his for us. He was at once our protector and our dependent. It is not strange that we never failed to be thoroughly enraged when dog-lovers tried, as they sometimes did, to coax us to sell him. Sell our Bruno! True, we had tried to give him away, but that was for his own good. But to take money for him! To sell him!! Unspeakable!!!

Three times we had nursed him through trying illnesses,—twice the blind staggers, and once the distemper; and when either of us was ill, he could not be coaxed from the bedside. No matter who watched at night, Bruno would watch too, and no slightest sound nor movement escaped his vigilance.

How often since he left us have I longed in weary vigils for the comfort of his presence!