the laugh had died away, he offered for sale the cart upon
which he stood, reserving the right to stand upon it during the
balance of the day. The bidding was spiritless at first, and the cart
went for two dollars. Mr. Potter remarking, as he knocked it down:

"Thus passeth my understanding!"

And so the sale progressed, Mr. Potter finding many opportunities
which called forth some selection from his store of poetry. There were
many sharp sallies from the crowd, for the New Englander is keen of
wit, but the auctioneer ever had a ready rejoinder that turned the
laugh away from himself, without causing ill-feeling.

After a couple of hours, during which Leon saw many things sold which
were associated in his mind with what were now sacred memories, he
turned away from the crowd, and went off towards the barn. Lost in
thought, he did not notice that the collie followed at his heels,
until presently, walking between the bales of new hay, and finding one
upon which he could throw himself, Lossy jumped up beside him and
kissed him in the face.

"Poor doggy," said the lad; "you know that I'm in trouble, don't you,
old boy?" He paused as though he awaited a reply, and the dog, seeming
to understand that something was expected of him, sat back on his
haunches and offered his paw, tapping his master's arm again and
again, until it was taken. Then Leon turned so as to face the dog
squarely, and retaining the proffered paw, he spoke again.

"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 st