162 The Iron Dog.

not seem to sleep, but tossed and turned, tossed
and turned, fell asleep for a second, and then
woke up again.

‘‘Mary, Mary,” he shouted, but Mary had gone
out walking with one of her friends, and the lonely
little boy called in vain. At last he got up, put
on his slippers, and running to the window, which
was wide open, looked out. The warm summer
air blew softly in, and the moon which was full,
was flooding the whole world with a silvery light.
Arnold could hear the sea at the foot of the lawn
softly “lap-lapping”’ the shore. Then he saw his
friend, the Dog, standing on guard, on the lawn,
looking bigger and more threatening than ever,
his shadow reaching far off at one side.

“T will go out into the silver world and see my
Dog,” said he, ‘for Mary will not come to me, and
I am dreadfully lonesome.”

So putting on his little red dressing gown,
down stairs he ran, into the library, through the
tall glass door to the piazza and across the lawn.
Ah, how delicious it was! To his iron friend he
ran, and mounting him, put his two warm arms