It seemed that something serious must have happened, for Fido had never been left alone so long before.  If he had known that the old man was conversing pleasantly with some fellow-citizens at the grocery store, and that the young one had his arm around a laughing girl in white, trying to teach her to walk, he would have been very indignant indeed.

Several times, lately, Fido had noticed, the young man had gone out shortly after the old one went to the post-office.  It would be, usually, half a day later when his master returned with a letter or two, or often with none.  The young man took pains to get back before the old one did, which was well, for there should always be someone in a lawyer’s office to receive clients and keep dogs from being lonely.

[Sidenote:  Pangs of Hunger]

The pangs of a devastating hunger assailed Fido, which was not strange, for it was long past the hour when the old man usually took a bulky parcel out of his desk, spread a newspaper upon the floor, and bade Fido eat of cold potatoes, meat, and bread.  There was, nearly always, a nice, juicy bone to beguile the tedium of the afternoon.  Fido and the old man seldom went home to supper before half past five, and Fido would have been famished were it not for the comfort of the bone.

He sniffed around the larger of the two desks.  A tempting odour came from a drawer far above.  He stood on his hind legs and reached up as far as he could, but the drawer was closed.  So was every other drawer in the office, except one, and that was in the young man’s desk.  Probably there was nothing in it for a hungry dog—­there never had been.

[Sidenote:  The Little Red Box]

Still, it might be well to investigate.  Fido laboriously climbed up on the chair and put his paws upon the edge of the open drawer.  There was nothing in it but papers and a small, square, red box with a rubber band around it.

Fido took the box in his mouth and jumped down.  He pushed it with paws and nose over to his own particular corner, sniffing appreciatively meanwhile.  It took much vigorous chewing to get the rubber band off and to make a hole in one corner of the box, out of which rolled a great number of small, cylindrical objects.  They were not like anything Fido had ever eaten before, but hungry little dogs must take what they can find.  So he gulped them all down but one.  This one refused to be swallowed and Fido quickly repented of his rashness, for it was distinctly not good.  He ate the rubber band and all but a little piece of the red box before the taste was quite gone out of his mouth.  Even then, a drink of fresh, cool water would have been very acceptable, but there was nobody to care whether a little dog died of thirst or not.

The bluebottle fly buzzed loudly upon the window-pane, but Fido no longer aspired to him.  A vast weariness took the place of his former restlessness.  He sat and blinked at his ill-assorted feet for some time, then dragged himself lazily toward his cushion in the corner.  Before he reached it, he was so very sleepy that he lay down upon the floor.  In less than five minutes, he was off to the canine dreamland, one paw still caressingly laid over the fragments of the little red box.