But the Little Colonel need not have wasted any sympathy on Betty.  While one stowed away her expensive presents in her trunk, the other wrapped up her little souvenirs, humming softly to herself.  It would have been hard to find anywhere in the queen’s dominion, a happier child than Betty, as she sat beside her trunk, thinking of the beautiful journey with Cousin Carl, just ending, and the life awaiting her at Locust with her godmother and the Little Colonel.  There was only one cloud on her horizon, and that was the parting with Eugenia and her father.

That last evening they spent together in the private parlour adjoining Mrs. Sherman’s room.  Early after dinner Lloyd and her father went down to pay a visit to Hero, and see that he was properly cared for.  He had had a hard time since reaching England, for the laws regarding the quarantining of dogs are strict, and it had taken many shillings on Mr. Sherman’s part and some tears on the Little Colonel’s to procure him the privileges he had.

“The whole party will be glad when he is safely landed in Kentucky, I am sure,” said Mrs. Sherman, as the door closed after them.  “I’d never consent to take another dog on such a journey, after all the trouble and expense this one has been.  Lloyd is so devoted to him that she is heartbroken if he has to be tied up or made uncomfortable in any way.  She’ll probably come up-stairs in tears to-night because he wants to follow her, and must be kept a prisoner.”

While they waited for her return, Mrs. Sherman drew Eugenia into her room for a last confidential talk, and Betty, nestling beside Cousin Carl on the sofa, tried to thank him for all his fatherly kindness to her on their long pilgrimage together.  But he would not let her put her gratitude in words.  His answer was the same that it had been that last night of the house party, when, looking down the locust avenue gleaming with its myriad of lights, like some road to the City of the Shining Ones, she had cried out:  “Oh, why is everybody so good to me?”

The others came in presently, and the evening seemed to be on wings, it flew so swiftly, as they planned for another summer to be spent at Locust, when Eugenia should come home from her year in the Paris school.  And never, it seemed, were good nights followed so quickly by good mornings, or good mornings by good-byes.

Almost before they realised that the parting time had actually come, the Little Colonel and Betty were leaning over the railing of the great steamer, waving their handkerchiefs to Eugenia and her father on the dock.  Smaller and smaller grew the familiar outlines, wider and wider the distance between the ship and the shore, until at last even Eugenia’s red jacket faded into a mere speck, and it was no longer of any use to wave good-bye.

CHAPTER XI.

HOMEWARD BOUND

On that long, homeward journey it was well for Hero that he wore the Red Cross on his collar.  The little symbol was the open sesame to many a privilege that ordinary dogs are not allowed on shipboard.  Instead of being confined to the hold, he was given the liberty of the ship, and when his story was known he received as much flattering attention as if he had been some titled nobleman.