to carry it home to her; and then once more the hope revived of finding
her at home herself. It was the most likely thing in the world that she
should come home to dinner. Everybody did, I supposed; I was going home
to dinner myself.

With the book in my mouth, I swam across the water. Perhaps I did not
keep it quite dry, but I carried it into the house, and laid it down
before the gardener and his wife, who were the only persons I could see
on the premises.

"Well, that is sensible, I must confess," said the gardener. "The dumb
animal has found missy's book, and brought it back. Miss Lily would
like to hear that."

"Ah, she always thought a deal of the creature," replied his wife; "and
for her sake he shan't be neglected. Here's your dinner, Captain."

"Give him that bone," said the gardener; "that's what he'll like."

So they gave me a charming bone, quite to my taste; and for a time I
forgot all my anxieties in the pleasure of turning it round, sucking,
biting, pawing, and growling over it. I cared for no other dinner;
indeed I never could understand how people could trouble themselves to
eat anything else as long as there was a bone to gnaw. But it is
fortunate there are various tastes in the world; and the strange
preference of men for other food is convenient for us dogs, as it leaves
us in more undisputed possession of the bones than if our masters liked
gnawing them too.

But the pleasure of a bone does not last for ever, and among the nobler
races of animals Thought cannot be entirely kept under by eating. I have
heard that greedy human beings sometimes reduce themselves to the
condition of pigs, who are entirely devoted to cramming; but _I_ should
not choose to degrade myself to that level. So I soon began meditating,
and cogitating, and speculating again.

My life now grew every day more and more dismal. Dinner-time brought its
bone, but bones soon failed to comfort me. The gardener said I was "off
my feed," and his wife feared I should mope to death. All day I wandered
about looking for Lily, and at night retired to my kennel, under the sad
impression that she was farther off than ever. The gardener himself once
invited me into the flower-garden in hopes of amusing me, and I explored
all the gravel-walks, carefully avoiding the borders; but there was no
trace of my lost Lily, and I never cared to visit it again.

One day I thought I would search the house. It was thrown open to me.
There were no for