148 A DOG OF FLANDERS.

ther?” she whispered. ‘He may
come to-morrow as he used to do?”

The miller- pressed her in his
arms; his hard, sun-burned face was
very pale, and his mouth trembled.
“Surely, surely,’ he answered his
child. “He shall bide here on
Christmas Day, and any other day
he will. God helping me, I will
make amends to the boy —I will
make amends.”

Little Alois kissed him in gratitude
and joy, then slid from his knees and
ran to where the dog kept watch by
the door. “And to-night I may.
feast Patrasche?” she cried in a
child’s thoughtless glee.

Her father bent his head gravely.
“ Ay, ay : let the dog have the best ;”