Her voice was dry and hard; it was from Katie there came the exclamation
of protest and contempt.

"No one except one who loves dogs as you do would know what it meant.
Even you can't quite know. For Tono was all I had. He--"

Katie's arm about her tightened.

"I could have stood it for myself. I could have stood my own
lonesomeness. But what I couldn't stand was thinking about him. Nights I
would wake up and think of him--out in the cold--homesick--maybe
hungry--not understanding--watching and waiting--wondering why I didn't
come. I couldn't keep from thinking about things that tortured me. This
man was a deacon in my father's church. From the way he prayed, I knew he
was not one to be good to dogs.

"And then one afternoon I heard the little familiar scratch at the door.
I rushed to it, and there he was--shivering--but oh so, so glad! He
sprang right into my arms--we cried and cried together--sitting there on
the floor. His heart had been almost broken--he had grieved--_suffered_.
He wasn't willing to leave my arms; just whimpering the way one does when
a dreadful thing is over--licking my face--you know how they do--you know
how dear they are.

"Now I will tell you what I did. Holding him in my arms, my face buried
in his fur--I made up my mind. The family would be away for at least an
hour. I would give him the happiest hour I knew how to give him. One
hour--it was all I had the power to give him. Then--because I loved him
so much--I would end his life."

Katie's face whitened. "I carried out the plan," Ann went on. "I gave him
the meat we were to have had for supper. I had him do all his little
tricks. I loved him and loved him. I do not think any little dog ever
had a happier hour.

"And then--down at a house in the next block I saw my father--and the man
he had given Tono to. The man was coming to our house for supper. Our
time was up.

"I can never explain to any one the way I did it--the way I felt as I did
it. There was no crying. There was no faltering. It seemed that all at
once I understood--understood the hardness of life--that things _are_
hard--that things have _got_ to be done. Then was when it came to me that
you've got to harden yourself--that it's the only way.

"I filled a tub with water--I didn't know any other way to do it. Tono
stood there watching me. I took a bucket. I took up the dog. I hugged
him. I let him lick my face. Though I live to be very old, Katie, and
suffer very much, I