And, in their friendship, he was happy;--until he would chance to see his mate and his little son playing in wild ecstasy with a stick or ball, and would frisk bulkily over to join them.

In a bare second or two, the demeanor of both showed him just what a grossly unwelcome interloper he was.
Whereat, after a wistfully miserable glance from one to the other of the exclusive pair, Lad would trot slowly back to his human deities; and, with a queerly sobbing little sigh, he would curl up at the Mistress's feet.
"It's a shame, Laddie!" declared the Mistress, at one such time.

"It's a SHAME! Why, you are worth a million of those crazy playdogs! You're a million times wiser and beautifuller and more lovable.

Why do you bother with them?
Master and I are ever so much better company for you; and we love to have you with us.

Stay right here, and forget them." Lad, perhaps, understood the actual meaning of one word in ten of the advice.