otted away down the lane, Hilda went back and sat
down in the porch, very tired and sad at heart. It seemed so hard, so
hard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threatening
ruin. She thought of her father, with a momentary flash of hope that
made her spring from her seat with a half articulate cry of joy; but the
hope faded as she remembered that he had probably just started for the
Yosemite Valley, and that there was no knowing when or where a despatch
would reach him. She sighed, and sank back on the bench with a hopeless
feeling. Presently she bethought her of her little dog, whom she had not
seen all day. Jock had grown very dear to her heart, and was usually her
inseparable companion, except when she was busy with household tasks, to
which he had an extreme aversion. A mistress, in Jock's opinion, was a
person who fed one, and took one to walk, and patted one, and who was in
return to be loved desperately, and obeyed in reason. But sweeping, and
knocking brooms against one's legs, and paying no attention to one's
invitations to play or go for a walk, were manifest derelictions from a
mistress's duty; accordingly, when Hilda was occupied in the house, Jock
always sat in the back porch, with his back turned to the kitchen door,
and his tail cocked very high, while one ear listened eagerly for the
sound of Hilda's footsteps, and the other was thrown negligently
forward, to convey the impression that he did not really care, but only
waited to oblige her. And the moment the door opened, and she appeared
with her hat on, oh, the rapture! the shrieks and squeaks and leaps of
joy, the wrigglings of body and frantic waggings of tail that ensued!

So this morning, what with all the trouble, and with her knowledge of
his views, Hildegarde had not thought to wonder where Jock was. But now
it struck her that she had exchanged no greeting with him since last
night; that she had heard no little impatient barks, no flapping of tail
against the door by way of reminder. Where could the little fellow be?
She walked round the house, calling and whistling softly. She visited
the barn and the cow-shed and all the haunts where her favorite was wont
to linger; but no Jock was to be seen. "Perhaps he has gone over to see
Will," she thought, with a feeling of relief. Indeed, this was very
possible, as the two dogs were very brotherly, and frequently exchanged
visits, sometimes acting as letter-carriers for their two mistres