"That I do not know; but to-morrow I set forth with him to find his owner."

Mother Lemon nodded, and she saw the heaviness of the boy's heart because he must part with the golden dog.

"'Tis well that you leave him with me then, for your father would not permit that, any more than he would abate one farthing of my rent."

Gabriel went with her to the rickety shed where Topaz was to spend the night, but the dog was loath to enter. He seemed to know that it meant parting with Gabriel. The boy stooped down and talked to him, but Topaz licked his face and sprang upon him beseechingly. When, finally, they closed the door with the dog within, the little fellow howled sorrowfully.

"I'm sure he's hungry, Mother Lemon," said the boy, and a lump seemed to stick in his throat. "One bone perhaps you could give him?"

"Alas, I have none, Gabriel. It is not often that Tommy and I sit down to meat. He is now hunting mice in the fields or he would be lashing his tail at these strange sounds!"

Gabriel opened the door and, going back into the shed, spoke sternly to Topaz, bidding him lie down. The dog obeyed, looking appealingly from the tops of his gem-like eyes, but when again the door was fastened, he kept an obedient silence.

Thanking Mother Lemon and promising to come early in the morning, Gabriel sped home. His own hunger made his heart ache for the little dog, and when he entered the cottage he was glad to see that his stepmother was preparing the evening meal, while his father bent, as usual, over a shabby, ink-stained desk, absorbed in his endless calculations.

Gabriel's elder brothers were there, too, talking and laughing in an undertone. No one took any notice of Gabriel, whose eye fell on the dusty, rusty book, and eagerly he picked it up, thinking to see if again he could find the wonder of the flaming words.

As he opened it, several verses on the page before him gleamed into light.

In mute wonder he read:--

"_And I will say to my soul, 'Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry._'

"_But G.o.d said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?_'

"_So is he that layeth up treasure for himself and is not rich toward G.o.d._"

Gabriel scarcely dared to lift his eyes toward his father, much less would he have offered to read to him again the flaming words.

All through the supper time he thought of them and kept very still, for the others were unusually talkative, his father seeming in such excellent spirits that Gabriel knew the figures on his desk had brought him satisfaction.

"But if he did not oppress Mother Lemon," thought the boy, "he would be richer toward G.o.d."

When the meal was over, Gabriel took a piece of paper and went quietly to the back of the house where, in a box, was the refuse of the day's cooking.

He found some bones and other sc.r.a.ps, and, running across the fields to Mother Lemon's, tiptoed to the low shed which held Topaz, and, finding a wide crack, pushed the bones and sc.r.a.ps within.

Then he fled home and to bed, for he had always found that the earlier he closed his eyes, the shorter was the night.

This time, however, when his sleepy lids opened, it was not to the light of day. A candle flame wavered above him and showed the face of his stepmother, bending down. "Gabriel, Gabriel," she whispered; then, as he would have replied, she hushed him with her finger on her lips. "I felt that I must warn you that your father is sorely vexed by the reproof you gave him to-day. He will send you out into the world, and I cannot prevent it; but in all that lies in my poor power, I will be your friend forever, Gabriel, for you are a good boy. Good-night, I must not stay longer," and a tear fell on the boy's cheek as she kissed him lightly, and then, with a breath, extinguished the candle and hastened noiselessly away.

Gabriel lay still, thinking busily for a while; but he was a fearless, innocent boy, and this threatened change in his fortunes could not keep him awake long. He soon fell asleep and slept soundly until the dawn.

Jumping out of bed then, he washed and dressed and went downstairs where his father awaited him.

"Gabriel," he said, "you do not grow brighter by remaining at home. I wish you to go out into the world and shift for yourself. When your fortune is made, you may return. As you go, however, I am willing to give you a small sum of money to use until you can obtain work."

"I will obey you, father," returned the boy, "but as a last favor, I ask that, in place of the money, you give me the cottage where Mother Lemon lives."

The man started and muttered: "He is even stupider than I believed him."

"You may have it," he added aloud, after a wondering pause.

"That--and this?" returned Gabriel questioningly, taking up the Book of Life.

His father scowled, for he remembered yesterday. "Very well, if you like,"

he answered, with a bad grace.

"Then thank you, father, and I will trouble you no more."

Gabriel's stepmother could scarcely repress her tears as she gave the boy his breakfast and prepared him a package of bread and meat to carry on his journey. Then she gave him a few pence, all she had, and he started off with her blessing.

As Gabriel went out into the fresh air, all nature was beautiful around him. There seemed no end to the blue sky, the wealth of sunshine, the generous foliage on the waving trees. The birds were singing joyously. All things breathed a blessing. Gabriel wondered, as he walked along, about the G.o.d who, some one had once told him, made all things. It seemed to him that it could be only a loving Being who created such beauty as surrounded him now.

The little book was clasped in his hand. He suddenly remembered with relief that he was alone and could read it without fear.

Eagerly opening it, one verse, as before, flamed into brightness, and Gabriel read:--

"_He that loveth not, knoweth not G.o.d; for G.o.d is love._"

How wonderful! Gabriel's heart swelled. G.o.d was love, then. He closed the book. For the first time G.o.d seemed real to him. The zephyrs that kissed his cheek and the sun that warmed him like a caress, seemed a.s.suring him of the truth. The birds declared it in their songs.

Gabriel went down on his knees in the dewy gra.s.s and, dropping his bundle, clasped to his breast the book.

"Dear G.o.d," he said, "I am all alone and I have no one to love but Topaz.

He is a little dog and I must give him up because he doesn't belong to me.

I know now that I shall love you and you will help me give Topaz back, because my stepmother told me that you know everything, and she always told the truth."

Then Gabriel arose and, taking the package of food, went on with a light heart until he came to Mother Lemon's cottage. Even that poor shanty looked pleasant in the morning beams. The tall sunflowers near the door flaunted their colors in the light, and their cheerful faces seemed laughing at Mother Lemon as she came to the entrance and called anxiously to the approaching boy:--

"Come quick, lad, hasten. My poor Tommy is distracted, for your dog whines and threatens to dig his way out of his prison, and I will not answer for the consequences."

Indeed, the tortoise-sh.e.l.l cat was seated on the old woman's shoulder. The fur stood stiffly on his arched back, his tail was the size of two, and his eyes glowed.

Gabriel just glanced at the cat as it opened its mouth and hissed, then he gazed at Mother Lemon.

"Did you know there was a G.o.d?" he asked earnestly.

"To be sure, lad," replied the old woman, surprised.

"I've just learned about Him in this wonderful book; the Book of Life is its name. Saw you ever one like it?"

The boy placed the rusty little volume in her hands.

"Ay, lad, many times."

"Does every one know it?" he asked incredulously.

"Most people do."

"Then why is not every one happy?" asked Gabriel. "There is a G.o.d and He is love. Do people believe it?"