guage. He gazed into his mother’s mild eyes as if he would read her inmost soul (supposing that she had one). He turned his head to every possible angle, and cocked his ears to every conceivable elevation, and rubbed his nose against Fan’s, and barked softly, in every imaginable degree of modulation, and varied these proceedings by bounding at full speed over the rocks and in among the bushes and out again, but always circling round and round Fan, and keeping her in view.
It was a sight worth seeing, and young Marston sat down on a rock, deliberately and enthusiastically, to gloat over it. But perhaps the most remarkable part of it has not yet been referred to. There was yet another heart there that was glad, exceeding glad that day. It was a little one, too, but it was big for the body that held it. Grumps was there, and all that Grumps did was to sit on his haunches and stare at Fan and Crusoe, and wag his tail as well as he could in so awkward a position. Grumps was evidently bewildered with delight, and had lost nearly all power to express it. Crusoe’s conduct towards him, too, was not calculated to clear his faculties. Every time he chanced to pass near Grumps in his elephantine gambols, he gave him a passing touch with his nose, which always knocked him head over heels; whereat Grumps’ invariably got up quickly and wagged his tail with additional energy. Before the feelings of those canine friends were calmed they were all three ruffled into a state of comparative exhaustion.
Then young Marston called Crusoe to him; and Crusoe, obedient to the voice of friendship, went.
“Are you happy, my dog?”
“You’re a stupid fellow to ask such a question; however, it’s an amiable one. Yes, I am.”
“What do you want, ye small bundle o’ hair?”
This was addressed to Grumps, who came forward, and sat down to listen to the conversation.
On being thus sternly questioned the little dog put down its ears flat, and hung its head, looking up at the same time with a deprecatory look, as if to say, “Oh dear, I beg pardon. I—I only want to sit near Crusoe, please; but if you wish it, I’ll go away, sad and lonely, with my tail very much between my legs; only say the word, but—but I’d rather stay if I might.”
“Poor bundle!” said Marston, patting its head; “you can stay then. Hooray!—Crusoe, are you happy, I say?
