“Why not, pray?”

For answer Gabriel looked down into the topaz eyes whose regard had scarcely left his face during the interview.  He held up his finger, and instantly the dog sat up.

“’Tis a trick dog!” exclaimed Mother Lemon.

Gabriel began to whistle, and the dance commenced.  The old woman pressed her side as she laughed at the comical, pretty sight of the little dancer, the fluffy golden threads of whose silky coat gleamed in the sunlight.

“Your fortune is made,” said Mother Lemon as Gabriel ceased.  “The dog will fetch a large price in the town, and because you are a good lad I will try to keep him for you until to-morrow, when you can go and sell him.  If your father saw his tricks he would, himself, dispose of him and pocket the cash.  I will shut him in an outhouse until you come again, and I only hope that he will not bark and vex Tommy!”

To the old woman’s surprise Gabriel looked sad.  “But you see, Mother Lemon,” he said soberly, “the dog already belongs to somebody.”

“La, la!” cried the old woman.  “Why, then, couldn’t the somebody keep him?”

“That I do not know; but to-morrow I set forth with him to find his owner.”

Mother Lemon nodded, and she saw the heaviness of the boy’s heart because he must part with the golden dog.

“’Tis well that you leave him with me then, for your father would not permit that, any more than he would abate one farthing of my rent.”

Gabriel went with her to the rickety shed where Topaz was to spend the night, but the dog was loath to enter.  He seemed to know that it meant parting with Gabriel.  The boy stooped down and talked to him, but Topaz licked his face and sprang upon him beseechingly.  When, finally, they closed the door with the dog within, the little fellow howled sorrowfully.

“I’m sure he’s hungry, Mother Lemon,” said the boy, and a lump seemed to stick in his throat.  “One bone perhaps you could give him?”

“Alas, I have none, Gabriel.  It is not often that Tommy and I sit down to meat.  He is now hunting mice in the fields or he would be lashing his tail at these strange sounds!”

Gabriel opened the door and, going back into the shed, spoke sternly to Topaz, bidding him lie down.  The dog obeyed, looking appealingly from the tops of his gem-like eyes, but when again the door was fastened, he kept an obedient silence.

Thanking Mother Lemon and promising to come early in the morning, Gabriel sped home.  His own hunger made his heart ache for the little dog, and when he entered the cottage he was glad to see that his stepmother was preparing the evening meal, while his father bent, as usual, over a shabby, ink-stained desk, absorbed in his endless calculations.

Gabriel’s elder brothers were there, too, talking and laughing in an undertone.  No one took any notice of Gabriel, whose eye fell on the dusty, rusty book, and eagerly he picked it up, thinking to see if again he could find the wonder of the flaming words.