"You were playing with Tommie," he said; "is it in the next room ?" The dog heard his name pronounced through the open door.

The next moment he trotted into the drawing-room with Isabel's pocketbook in his mouth.
He was a strong, well-grown Scotch terrier of the largest size, with bright, intelligent eyes, and a coat of thick curling white hair, diversified by two light brown patches on his back.

As he reached the middle of the room, and looked from one to another of the persons present, the fine sympathy of his race told him that there was trouble among his human friends.

His tail dropped; he whined softly as he approached Isabel, and laid her pocketbook at her feet.
She knelt as she picked up the pocketbook, and raised her playfellow of happier days to take her leave of him.

As the dog put his paws on her shoulders, returning her caress, her first tears fell.