“What kind of a memory are you leaving behind you?” suggested Mrs. Sherman, touching the little ring on Lloyd’s finger that had been her talisman since the house party.  “Will it be a Road of the Loving Heart?”

Lloyd hesitated.  “No,” she acknowledged, frankly.  “Of co’se when I stop to think, I do want to leave that kind of a memory for everybody.  I’d hate to think that when I died, there’d be even one person who had cause to say ugly things about me, even Fidelia.  But just now, mothah, honestly when I remembah how she laughed, I feel that I must be as mean to her as she is to me.  I can’t help it.”

Mrs. Sherman made no answer, but turned to her own dressing, and presently Lloyd kissed her, and went slowly down-stairs to find Hero.  He was no longer dreaming in peace.  Two restless boys cooped up in the narrow limits of the hotel, and burning with a desire to be amused, had discovered him through the crack of the door, and immediately pounced upon him.

“Aw, ain’t he nice!” exclaimed Henny, stroking the shaggy back with a dirty little hand.  Howl felt in his blouse, hoping to find some crumb left of the stock of provisions stored away at lunch-time.

“Feel there, Henny,” he commanded, backing up to his little brother, and humping his shoulders.  “Ain’t that a cooky slipped around to the back of my blouse?  Put your hand up and feel.”

Henny obligingly explored the back of his brother’s blouse, and fished out the last cooky, which they fed to Hero.

“Wisht we had some more,” said Howell, as the cake disappeared.  “Henny, you go up and see if you can’t hook some of Beauty’s biscuit.”

“Naw!  I don’t want to.  I want to play with the dog,” answered Henny, “He’s big enough to ride on.  Stand up, old fellow, and let me get on your back.”

“I’ll tell you a scheme,” cried Howl; “you run up-stairs and get one of mamma’s shawl-straps, and we’ll fix a harness for him, and make him ride us around the room.”

“All right,” agreed Henny, trotting out into the hall.  At the door he met Lloyd.  When she went into the room she found Howell lying on the floor, burrowing his head into the dog’s side for a pillow.  Hero did not like it, and, shaking himself free, walked across the room and lay down in another place.

Howl promptly followed, and pillowed his head on him again.  Hero looked around with an appealing expression in his big, patient eyes, once more got up, crossed the room, and lay down in a corner.  Howell followed him like a teasing mosquito.

“Don’t bothah him, Howl,” said Lloyd.  “Don’t you see that he doesn’t like it?”

“But he makes such a nice, soft pillow,” said the boy, once more burrowing his hard little head into Hero’s ribs.

“He might snap at you if you tease him too much.  I nevah saw him do it to any one, but nobody has evah teased him since he belonged to me.”

“Is he your dog?” asked Howl, in surprise.