“I met him last night in the office,” explained her father, when the old gentleman had passed out of hearing.  “We got into conversation over the dog he had with him—­a magnificent St. Bernard, that had been trained as a war dog, to go out with the ambulances to hunt for dead and wounded soldiers.  Major Pierre de Vaux is the old man’s name.  The clerk told me that when the Major lost his arm, he was decorated for some act of bravery.  He is well known here in Geneva, where he comes every summer for a few weeks.”

“Oh, I hope I’ll see the war dog!” cried the Little Colonel.  “What do you suppose his name is?”

The waiter, who was changing their plates, could not resist this temptation to show off the little English he knew.  “Hes name is Hero, mademoiselle,” he answered.  “He vair smart dog.  He know evair sing somebody say to him, same as a person.”

“You’ll probably see him as we go out to the carriage,” said Mr. Sherman.  “He follows the Major constantly.”

As soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Sherman went up to her room for her hat.  Lloyd, who had worn hers down to breakfast, wandered out into the hall to wait for her.  There was a tall, carved chair standing near the elevator, and Lloyd climbed into it.  To her great confusion, something inside of it gave a loud click as she seated herself, and began to play.  It played so loudly that Lloyd was both startled and embarrassed.  It seemed to her that every one in the hotel must hear the noise, and know that she had started it.

“Silly old thing!” she muttered, as with a very red face she slipped down and walked hurriedly away.  She intended to go into the reading-room, but in her confusion turned to the left instead of the right, and ran against some one coming out of the hotel office.  It was the Major.

“Oh, I beg your pahdon!” she cried, blushing still more.  From the twinkle in his eye she was sure that he had witnessed her mortifying encounter with the musical chair.  But his first words made her forget her embarrassment.  He spoke in the best of English, but with a slight accent that Lloyd thought very odd and charming.

“Ah, it is Mr. Sherman’s little daughter.  He told me last night that you had come to Switzerland because it was a land of heroes, and he was sure that you would be especially interested in mine.  So come, Hero, my brave fellow, and be presented to the little American lady.  Give her your paw, sir!”

He stepped aside to let the great creature past him, and Lloyd uttered an exclamation of delight, he was so unusually large and beautiful.  His curly coat of tawny yellow was as soft as silk, and a great ruff of white circled his neck like a collar.  His breast was white, too, and his paws, and his eyes had a wistful, human look that went straight to Lloyd’s heart.  She shook the offered paw, and then impulsively threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming, “Oh, you deah old fellow!  I can’t help lovin’ you.  You’re the beautifulest dog I evah saw!”