and disappear unseen. But all the same at night his bark would be loud and wakeful as ever.
IV
Autumn began to glow with yellow fires, and the sky to weep with heavy rain, and the bungalows became quickly empty, and silent, as though the incessant rain and wind had extinguished them one by one, like candles.
"What are we to do with Snapper?" asked Lelya, with hesitation. She was sitting embracing her knees and looking sorrowfully out of the window, down which were rolling glistening drops of rain.
"What a position you're in, Lelya; that's not the way to sit!" said her mother, and added: "Snapper must be left behind, poor fellow."
"That's—a—pity," said Lelya lingeringly.
"But what can one do? We have no courtyard at home, and we can't keep him in the house, that you must very well understand."
"It's—a—pity," repeated Lelya, ready to cry. Her dark brows were raised, like a swallow's wings, and her pretty little nose puckered piteously, when her mother said:
"The Dogayevs offered me a puppy some time ago. They say that it is very well bred, and ready trained. Do you see? But this is only a yard-dog."
