looking down the locust avenue gleaming with its myriad
of lights, like some road to the City of the Shining Ones, she had cried
out: "Oh, _why_ is everybody so good to me?"

The others came in presently, and the evening seemed to be on wings, it
flew so swiftly, as they planned for another summer to be spent at Locust,
when Eugenia should come home from her year in the Paris school. And
never, it seemed, were good nights followed so quickly by good mornings,
or good mornings by good-byes.

Almost before they realised that the parting time had actually come, the
Little Colonel and Betty were leaning over the railing of the great
steamer, waving their handkerchiefs to Eugenia and her father on the
dock. Smaller and smaller grew the familiar outlines, wider and wider the
distance between the ship and the shore, until at last even Eugenia's red
jacket faded into a mere speck, and it was no longer of any use to wave
good-bye.

CHAPTER XI.

HOMEWARD BOUND

On that long, homeward journey it was well for Hero that he wore the Red
Cross on his collar. The little symbol was the open sesame to many a
privilege that ordinary dogs are not allowed on shipboard. Instead of
being confined to the hold, he was given the liberty of the ship, and when
his story was known he received as much flattering attention as if he had
been some titled nobleman.

The captain shook the big white paw, gravely put into his hand at the
Little Colonel's bidding, and then stooped to stroke the dog's head. As he
looked into the wistful, intelligent eyes his own grew tender.

"I have a son in the service," he said, "sent back from South Africa,
covered with scars. I know what that Red Cross meant to him for a good
many long weeks. Go where you like, old fellow! The ship is yours, so long
as you make no trouble."

"Oh, thank you!" cried the Little Colonel, looking up at the big British
captain with a beaming face. "I'd rathah be tied up myself than to have
Hero kept down there in the hold. I'm suah he'll not bothah anybody."

Nor did he. No one from stoker to deck steward could make the slightest
complaint against him, so dignified and well behaved was he. Lloyd was
proud of him and his devotion. Wherever she went he followed her, lying at
her feet when she sat in her steamer-chair, walking close beside her when
she and Betty promenaded the deck.

Everybody stopped to speak to him, and to question Lloyd and Betty about
him, so that it was