"This is Tuesday, isn't it?" he asked abruptly; "This is the day Miss Vancourt has arranged to return?"
"It is so, sir," replied Bainton; "and it's believed the arrangements 'olds good — for change'er mind as a woman will, 'er 'osses an' groom's arrived — and a dog as large as they make 'em, which 'is name is Plato."
Walden gave a slight gesture of annoyance. Here was a fresh cause of antipathy to the approaching Miss Vancourt. No one but a careless woman, devoid of all taste and good feeling, would name a dog after the greatest of Greek philosophers!
"Plato's a good name," went on Bainton meditatively, unconscious of the view his master was taking of that name in his own mind; "I've 'eard it somewheres before, though I couldn't tell just where. And it's a fine dog. I was up at the Manor this mornin' lookin' round the grounds, just to see 'ow they'd been a-gettin' on — and really it isn't so bad considerin', and I was askin' a question or two of Spruce, and he showed me the dog lyin' on the steps of the Manor, lookin' like a lion's baby snoozin' in the sun, and waitin' as wise as ye like for his mistress. He don't appear at all put out by new faces or new grounds — he's took to the place quite nat'ral."

The cheerful air of welcome which pervaded this charming, sunny apartment, with its lattice windows fronting the wide stretch of velvety lawn, terrace and park-land, delighted Maryllia, and she loosened her hold on Mrs. Spruce's arm with a little cry of pleasure, as a huge magnificently coated Newfoundland dog rose from his recumbent position near the window, and came to greet her with slow and expansive waggings of his great plumy tail.
"Plato, my beauty!" she exclaimed; "How do you like Abbot's Manor, boy? Eh? Quite at home, aren't you! Good dog! Isn't he a king of dogs?" And she turned her smiling face on Mrs. Spruce. "A real king! I bought him because he was so big! Weren't you frightened when you saw such a monster? -— and didn't you think he would bite everybody on the least provocation? But he wouldn't, you know! He's a perfect darling — as gentle as a lamb! He would kill anyone that wanted to hurt me — oh, yes of course! — that's why I love him!"
And she patted the enormous creature's broad head tenderly.
"He's my only true friend!" she continued; "Money wouldn't buy his fidelity!" Here, glancing at Mrs. Spruce, she laughed merrily.

"Just a bit of a higher flight, eh, Plato? What do you think about it?"
Plato the leonine, waved his plumy tail responsively and gently rubbed his great head against her arm. Resting one hand lightly on his neck, she moved towards the house and slowly ascended the graduating slopes of the grass terrace.

Outside, in the small garden, among mignonette and early flowering sweetpeas, Plato sat on his huge haunches in lion-like dignity, blinking at the sun, — while Walden's terrier Nebbie executed absurd but entirely friendly gambols in front of him, now pouncing down on two forepaws with nose to ground and eyes leering sideways, — now wagging an excited tail with excessive violence to demonstrate goodwill and a desire for amity. — and anon giving a short yelp of suppressed feeling, — to all of which conciliatory approaches Plato gave no other response than a vast yawn and meditative stare.

He even managed to make friends with the great dog Plato, who, ever since Maryllia's accident, had taken up regular hours of vigil outside her bedroom door, regardless of doctor and nurses, though he would move his leonine body gently aside whenever they passed in or out, showing a perfectly intelligent comprehension of their business. Plato every now and again would indulge in a walk abroad with Julian, accompanying him as far as the rectory, where he would enter, laying his broad head on Walden's knee with a world of sympathy in his loving brown eyes, while Nebbie, half-jealous, half-gratified, squatted humbly in the shadow of his feathery tail. And John found a certain melancholy pleasure in caressing the very dog Maryllia loved, and would sit, thoughtfully stroking the animal's thick coat, while Adderley and Dr. Forsyth, both of whom were now accustomed to meet in his little study every evening, discussed the pros and cons of what was likely to happen when Maryllia woke from her long trance of insensibility.