A DOG OF FLANDERS. 137

They took the old accustomed
road into. Antwerp. The day had
yet scarce more than dawned; most
of the shutters were still closed, but
some of the villagers were about.
They took no notice whilst the dog
and the boy passed by them. At
one door Nello paused and looked
wistfully within: his grandfather had
done many a kindly turn in neigh-
bor’s service to the people who
dwelt there.

“Would you give Patrasche a
crust?” he said timidly. “ He is old,
and he has had nothing since last
forenoon.”

The woman shut the door hastily,
murmuring some vague saying about
wheat and rye being very dear that