The lonely expression of his furrowed face, the bowed head, and the empty sleeve appealed to her strongly.
"I believe I'll go out and talk to him," she thought.

"If grandfathah were away off in a strange land by himself like that, I'd want somebody to cheer him up." It is always good to feel that one is welcome, and Lloyd was glad that she had ventured into the courtyard, when she saw the smile that lighted the Major's face at sight of her, and when the dog, rising at her approach, came forward joyfully wagging his tail.
The conversation was easy to begin, with Hero for a subject.

There were many things she wanted to know about him: how he happened to belong to the Major; what country he came from; why he was called a St.Bernard, and if the Major had ever owned any other dogs.
After a few questions it all came about as she had hoped it would.

The old man settled himself back in his chair, thought a moment, and then began at the first of his acquaintance with St.Bernard dogs, as if he were reading a story from a book.
"Away up in the Alpine Mountains, too high for trees to grow, where there is only bare rock and snow and cutting winds, climbs the road that is known as the Great St.Bernard Pass.

It is an old, old road.