both for myself and Pierre, I am your much-indebted friend.
"Madame Bernier."
The man gasped and rubbed his eyes, and then turned to the letter again, and read it over carefully to see if he had made any mistake. But there it was in black and white, as irrevocable as the laws of the Medes and Persians. He had got to give up his little dog friend. There was no other honorable course left to him.
That night the mistress tearfully tucked Pierre for the last time under his blanket in the kennel, and they held their last good-night confab.
Pierre was conscious, from the manner of his friends, of some impending change. He did not know just what it was, but he knew that they were depressed and so he shared their distress.
