lonely and intelligent master. He drew without check upon the resources of age, of desolation, and of sensitiveness.
Unlike most human spendthrifts of affection, David had respected his privilege. As an intellect he had developed vividly, but as a heart he was supreme. More cannot be said of his passionate fidelity than that it was the passion and the fidelity of his race presented in something like a typical form.
As Jonathan sat in the hot June afternoon with his face upon his shut hands, David came up the walk. He had been gone for some time—longer than usual. He had his own affairs (the most subject soul has) and occasionally attended to them; whether calls of a social or business nature, political duties, private detective work, or sheer mental recreation detained him, Jonathan often wondered, but never asked. He respected David's individuality. The dog had never voluntarily remained away from his master an hour in his life. To-day he had exceeded his precedent. Jonathan's face came up abruptly from his clasped fingers and regarded David over the porch rail.
"Why, David!" he said. "It's an hour and twenty minutes!"
David stood still and returned the look protestingly. He showed signs of agitation. He was panting heavily, and his tail deprecated his master with swiftly repeated strokes. These, as he started up the steps, thumped on the porch rail. David was a collie—a sable collie of fine proportions and with a kingly head. His ruff was white, and his paws. He had a white part in the middle of his forehead. His eyes were at once thoughtful and happy. His demeanor was dignified. The shape of his head was irreproachable, and all his points were excellent—he was clearly of good birth,—but he had one defect. He was badly marked. A white spot over his left eye disfigured him for the taste of fanciers. It was a singular mark, like a small star. This fortunate disfigurement had preserved him for his humble and happy lot.
"You see, David," Jonathan would explain, "she couldn't sell you. If you'd been as handsome as the rest of your family you and I would never—"
But Jonathan finished the sentence with a big hug. It was impossible to imagine what life would have been if he and David had never met and loved.
The star-marked collie sprang up the steps and rapturously embraced the old man. David's ardor did not offend: he kissed delicately—not all over, but only behind his master's ear. He had the air of trying to say something out of the common course. Jonathan listened attentively and with respect; but his face and that of the collie both showed that the man failed to catch the dog's meaning.
"David," said Jonathan, sadly, "I've been worrying about you. I suppose you know you're a tax-dodger?"
With an air of mortification the dog promptly hung his head before this accusation.
"It isn't your fault, David," proceeded Jonathan. "You're not to blame."
David's fine head came up from his ruff as quickly as it had fallen.
"It's my fault, David. I can't pay. I can't get together two dollars—not any way. I've only got seventy-six cents. Your taxes are most two months overdue. I've been so worried I can't sleep. I'd go around with a hat for you, David. I would for you—but if I did . . . I don't know! I can't say. You have a pretty good appetite, you know, David. And if the Town should take it into its head . . . Why, David! What's this on your neck? Where have you been, sir? What's happened to you?"
The clouded face of the dog cleared swiftly as his master's long, thin hands strayed to the broken end of a rope which hung from David's collar. The collar was an old skate-strap, neatly marked in indelible ink with the name of Jonathan Perch. But the face of the master darkened as visibly as that of the collie had lightened.
"You've been tied up and kept!" cried Jonathan, with agitation. The dog barked excitedly.
"Somebody kept you! You gnawed off and got away!"
David's fine head nodded like a man's.
"David! David!" cried Jonathan Perch. "Was it the Town did it?"
David whirled and barked shrilly.
"Yes or no?" demanded the old man. "Bark no?—One? Bark yes?—Two? Yes or no, David? Answer, sir!"
