sing him,
and all the children running to look.

But their favorite playground was in the yard, where the fountain was,
with its big circular basin. Around and around this basin they flew, and
Flash always gained on his pursuers until he came up with them, vaulted
over them, and was in front again, slipping out of sight like a spirit. I
suppose most animals enjoy themselves, but I am sure I never saw animals
have a better time than Juno and those two children of hers.

And the good times went on without diminution for many a day. Flash grew
to be almost as large as his mother, but if he ever realized that he was
not a cat we never knew it. He was as familiar in the house as though he
owned it. When Ned and I were going to bed in the dark one night, and put
out our hands to turn down the bedclothes, we touched something soft and
furry, and we had both tumbled half-way down the stairs before we realized
that Juno and Flash had gone to sleep in our bed.

And all the time how Juno loved the fox! She scarcely ever came near him
without stopping to rub her head against him affectionately, or to lick
his sharp little ears. She never did grow indifferent to this child of the
forest that she had raised as her own. Perhaps it would have been better
if she had not cared so much.

One day a strange dog slipped in at the gate while some one was passing
out. The fox had never been hurt in his life, and he felt no fear of
anything. He trotted up to the dog with his inquisitive nose in the air,
and before any one could speak or move, the dog had seized him and was
shaking the life out of him.

I never shall forget how we ran from the sight of it, when the dog was
beaten away. But when we stole back after a while, Juno was with Flash,
and was licking his face and trying her best to help him. Even the
Colonel could not bear to see her, but went away and shut himself up.

As for poor Flash, his day was done, and the merry little heart was still.
And a few hours later there was another grave at the foot of the garden.

We tried very hard after that to make Juno forget her loss, but she would
not forget. She missed the child that she had loved so tenderly, and broke
away from our caresses to go mewing from room to room, or to sit by the
fountain, filling the air with disconsolate wails. She would not touch the
food we offered her, though we saved her the most tempting morsels.

Of course this could not go on long. One night, a week a