No, I won’t have it,” she cried. “Ye can’t bring her in—and it’s no use begging and plaguing me. She’s got to go right back! Right this minute!”

The words cascaded over Joe. In the strict bringing-up of his Yorkshire home, with its stern kindness, it was rare that he “answered back,” as the saying is, to his parents. But this time he felt he must try, must make them understand.

“But Mother, just a little while. Please, just a little while. Let me keep her just a little while!”

He felt that if he could only keep her there a short time, the hearts of his parents would soften. Perhaps Lassie felt that, too, for as Joe talked she walked in and went to her accustomed place on the hearth rug. As if she knew the talk was of her, she lay down, turning her eyes from one to another of the humans who usually spoke so quietly, but whose voices now were harsh.

“It’s no use, Joe. The longer ye keep her here, the harder it’s going to be to take her back. And go back she must!”

“But Mother—Father, look, please. She doesn’t look well. They don’t feed her right. Don’t you think…”

Joe’s father got up and faced his son. The man’s face was blank and emotionless, but his voice was full of understanding.

“That won’t work this time, Joe,” he said, ponderously. “Ye see, lad, it’s no use. We maun take her back right after tea.”

“No! Ye’ll take her back this very minute,” Mrs. Carraclough cried. “If ye don’t, ye’ll have that Hynes round here again. And I won’t have him walking into my house as if he owned it. Now put on your cap and go this very minute.”

“She’ll only come back again, Mother. Don’t ye see, she’ll only come back again. She’s our dog…”

Joe stopped as his mother sank down in a chair in a movement of weariness. She looked at her husband, and he nodded, as if to say Joe was right.

“She comes back for the lad, ye see,” the father said.

“I can’t help it, Sam. She’s got to go,” Mrs. Carraclough said slowly. “And if it’s the lad she comes back for, then ye must take him with ye. Let him go with ye, and he must put her in the kennels and tell her to stay. Then if he bid her rest there, happen she’d understand and be content, and not run away home any more.”

“Aye, there’s sense to that,” the man said, slowly. “Get thy cap, Joe, and come wi’ me.”

Miserably Joe got his cap, and the man made a soft whistling sound.