menu_book Chapter 12

XII. Blue and lavender shadows, frayed with midsummer sunshine, waggled gaily across the grass beneath the trees of a tiny orchard beside Mr. Atwater's old-fashioned brick house, but trembled with justifiable timidity as they hurried over the billowing surfaces of an abnormally wide and thick, colored woman who sat upon the steps of the back porch. Her right hand held in security one end

of a leather leash. The other end of the leash was fastened to a new collar about the neck of an odd and fascinating dog, seated on the cement walk at her feet and regarding her with a gravity that seemed to disconcert her. She was unable to meet his gaze and constantly averted her own whenever it furtively descended to his. In fact, her expression and manner were singular, denoting embarrassment, personal hatred, and a subtle bedazzlement. She could not look at him,

yet could not keep from looking at him. There was something here that arose out of the depths of natural character—it was intrinsic in the two personalities, that is to say—and was an addition to the bitterness consequent upon a public experience which had been brought upon her partly by his appearance, in particular the style and color of his hair, and partly by his unprecedented actions in her company upon the highway. She addressed him angrily, yet with

profound uneasiness. Huh! she said. You ain't feelin' as skittish as what you did little while ago, is you? My glory! I des would like to lay my hand to you hide once. I takin' lamb you this livin' minute, if I write show you wouldn't take and bite me. She jerked the leash vindictively, upon which the dog at once sat up on his haunches, put his

forepaws together above his nose in an attitude of prayer, and looked at her inscrutably from under the great bang of hair which fell like a black chrysanthemum over his forehead. Beneath this woolly lambrican his eyes were visible as two garnet sparks, of which the colored woman was only nervously aware. She gasped. Look a here, dog, who's went and asked you to take and pray for him? He remained motionless and devout. My goodness! she said to him. If you goin' to keep on this away

what is been, I'm goin' to up and go away from here right now. Then she said a remarkable thing. I ain't never lose no grandchild, and I ain't goin' dop no stranger for one neither. Elucidation rests upon the looks and manners of him whom she addressed. The dog was of a kind at the top of dog kingdoms. His size was neither insignificant nor great. Probably his weight would have been between a fourth and a third of a St. Bernard's. He had the finest head for a droid

thinking that is known among dogs, and an athletic body, the forepart muffled and lost in a massive corded black fleece, but the rest of him sharply clipped from the chest aft. And his trim, slim legs were clipped, though tufts were left at his ankles and at the tip of his short tail, with two upon his hips like fanciful buttons upon an imaginary jacket. For thus have such dogs been clipped to a fashion proper and comfortable for them ever since, and no doubt long before, an Imperial Roman sculptor so

chiseled one in bas relief. In brief, this dog, which caused Mrs. Kitty Silver so much disquietude, as she sat upon the back steps at Mr. Atwater's, belonged to that species of which no Frenchman ever sees a sample without smiling and murmuring, Caniche. He was that golden-hearted little clown of all the world, a French poodle. Now when Kitty Silver had first set eyes on this poodle an hour earlier, she looked and plainly was dumbfounded. Never in her life had she seen a creature so black,

so incredibly black, or with hair so kinky, so incredibly kinky. Mrs. Silver's young mistress had not observed her closely, nor paused to wonder what thoughts were rousing in her mind, but bade her take the poodle forth for exercise outdoors and keep him strictly upon the leash. Without protest, though wearing a unique expression, Kitty Silver obeyed. She walked round the block with this mystifying dog, and during the promenade had taken place the episode

which additionally upset her nerves. She had given a little jerk to the leash and spoken crossly to the poodle for not following her heels more closely, when instantly the creature rose and walked beside her on his hind legs. He continued to parade in this manner rapidly, but nevertheless as if casually, and without any apparent inconvenience. And Mrs. Silver, never having seen a dog do such a thing before for more than a yard or so, and then only under the pressure of

many inducements, was unfavorably impressed. In fact, she had most definitely a symptom of M. Maderlink's feeling when he found himself left alone with the talking horses. With whom was she? Look a here, dog! she said breathlessly. Who you trying to scare? You ain't no person! And then the blow fell. It came from an elderly, but ever undignified woman of her own race, who paused across the street and stood teetering from side to side in joyful agitation as she

watched the approach of Mrs. Silver with her wooly little companion beside her. When this smaller silhouette in India ink suddenly walked upright, the observer's mouth fell open, and there was reason to hope that it might remain so in odd silence, especially as several other pedestrians had stopped to watch the poodle's uncalled-for exhibition. Moreover, the woman was only slightly acquainted with Mrs. Silver, who moved in another and much blue-veinder set,

and the breach of etiquette was the harder to bear with dignity on that account. For all at once, the elderly rowdy saw fit to become uproarious. Hope be! she shouted. Oh, Grandma! And so, when the poodle sat up unbid to pray, while Kitty Silver rested upon the steps of the back porch on her return from the excursion, she fiercely informed him that she had never lost a grandchild, and that she would not adopt a stranger in place of one, her implication being that he,

a stranger, had been suggested for the position and considered himself fit for it. He continued to pray, not relaxing a hair. Listen to me, dog, said Kitty Silver. Is you a dog, or isn't you a dog? What is you, anyway? But immediately she withdrew the question. I ain't askin' you, she exclaimed superstitiously. If you isn't no dog, don't you take and tell me what you is. You take and keep it to yourself, cause I don't want to listen to it. For the

garnet eyes beneath the great black chrysanthemum indeed signified that their owner was about to use human language, casually, too, in a human voice. Instead, however, he appeared to be content with his effort, allowed his forepaws to return to the ground, and looked at her with his head wistfully tilted to one side. This reassured her and even somewhat won her. There stirred within her that curious sense of relationship evoked from the first by his suggestive appearance, fondness

of being born, and an admiration which was fundamentally a form of narcissism. She addressed him in a mollified voice. What you want now? Don't tell me you hungry, cause you already done it to dog biscuit and big saucer milk. What you stick you old black-faced crossways at me for, honey? But just then the dog rose to look pointedly toward the corner of the house. Somebody's coming, he meant. Who you speck in little dog? Mrs. Silver inquired. A boy and a girl came round the house.

They were both recently thirteen, though anything but twins, being first cousins, in fact, and mutually inimical ordinarily in manner and speech, if not in actual thought and deed. The girl was Florence Atwater, niece of Kitty Silver's lovely young mistress, and the boy was Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, nephew unto the same lady. He trifled with a tennis ball as he came, and carried a racket under his arm. Florence was peeling in orange. At sight of the poodle,

they uttered exclamations betokening the liveliest interest, but halted a few feet away from him as a precaution. For heaven's sakes! Florence cried. Kitty Silver, where on earth did this dog come from? Blong you Aunt Julia. When did she get him? Des today. Who gave him to her? She ain't saying. You mean she won't tell? She ain't saying, Kitty Silver repeated. I asked her. I say, Miss Julia, ma'am, I say. Miss Julia, ma'am, whoever sent you such an unlandish-looking dog,

I say. All she say when I asked her. Neh, mine, she say. Des dat away. Neh, mine, she say. I reckon she ain't going to tell nobody who give her this dog. He's certainly a mighty queer-looking dog, said Herbert. I've seen a few like that, but I can't remember where. What kind is he, Kitty? Miss Julia tell me he is a poogledog. A poodle, Florence corrected her, and then turned to Herbert in supercilious astonishment. A French poodle! My goodness,

I think you were old enough to know that much anyway, going on fourteen years old. Well, I did know it, he declared. I kind of knew it anyhow, but I sort of forgot it for once. Do you know if he bites Kitty Silver? She was noncommittal. He ain't bit nobody yet. I don't believe he'll bite, said Florence, growing confident as she stooped and peered at the two garnet sparks behind the black chrysanthemum. I bet he likes me. He looks

like he was taking a fancy to me, Kitty Silver. What's his name? Gamayr. What? Gamayr. What a funny name! Are you sure, Kitty Silver?

Gamayr what you Aunt Julia told me, Mrs. Silver insisted. You can go on in the house and ask her. She'll tell you the same. Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of him, said Florence, and she stepped closer to the poodle, extending her hand to caress him. Then she screamed with delight as the poodle, at her gesture, rose to his hind legs, and as far as the leash permitted, walked forward to meet her. She flung

her arms about him rapturously. Oh, the lovely doggy, she cried. He walks on his hind legs. Why, he's crazy about me. Let him go, said Herbert. I bet he don't like you any more than he likes anybody else. Leave go of him, and I bet he shows he likes me better than he does you. But when Florence released him, Gamayr caressed them both impartially. He leaped upon one,

then upon the other, and then upon Kitty Silver with a cordiality that almost unseated her. Let him off the leash, Florence cried. He won't run away, cause the gates are shut. Let him loose and see what he'll do. Mrs. Silver snapped the catch of the leash, and Gamayr departed in the lightness of a ragged black streak. With his eccentric ears flying in the wind and his after-part hunched up purely for comedy,

he ran round and round and round the little orchard, simulating the wildness of the wildest dogs in the wild world. Altogether a comedian, when the children shrieked with laughter, he wild-dogged the more wildly, then all upon an unexpected instant came to a flat halt facing his audience, with his nose on the ground between his two forepaws, but his hindquarters high and unstooping. Then, seeing they laughed at this, too, he gave them enough of it and then

wild-dogged again. Presently, as he invited pursuit by scampering suggestively nearer and nearer to Florence and Herbert on his rounds, they chased him, whereupon he ran figures of eight and wound them up in a hundred invisible strings, while they made great efforts to spank him as he went by them, but always failed even to get his tag. They made it a game and played it till all three were breathless and came back to Kitty Silver and the Steps once more, where

Gemeier sat by her feet with a spiral of pink tongue hanging from a wide-open mouth, roved with black. Florence resumed the peeling of her orange. Who do you think gave Gemeier to Aunt Julia? she asked. I ain't steady about it. Yes, but who do you guess? I ain't. Well, but if you had to be burned to death or guess somebody, who would you guess? I have to get burned up, said Kitty Silver. Every last caller what comes here is give her some

doggone animal already. Mr. Sammers is. He give her them two Berjum cats what you tuck and skid, trying to wash them, so as they run away before they even had time to let you grandpa hear a mew. And, oh, Mr. Ridgeways, what lost his wife, he give yo Aunt Julia them two Canaries that tuck and hopped out the cage and then out the window last week one day when yo grandpa was alone in the room with them. And Mr. George Plumbers, he gave her that Airedale dog yo grandpa tuck

and gave to the milkman. And Mr. Ushers, he gave her them two pups what yo grandpa tuck and skier off the place soon as he laid eyes on them. And this here Mr. Clare Ridge, he give her that old live alligator from Florida what I found looking at me over the age of my kitchen sink. Ugly old thing. And yo grandpa tuck and gave it to the greenhouse man. Ain't none them gentlemen going to try and give her no more animals, I bet. So how anybody going to guess who sent her this

here gammire? Nobody left what ain't already sent her one and had the gift spile. Yes, there is, said Florence. Who? Noble Dill. That there young Mr. Dills? Kitty Silver cried. Listen me, this here dog's expensive dog. I don't care. I bet Noble Dill gave him to her. Mrs. Silver hooted. Go away. That there young lil' Mr. Dills, he ain't never did show no class, no way nor no time. He wearing last year's straw hat right now. He be a hundred year old before

you see him in automobile what belong to him. Look at away some them fine big rich men like Mr. Clareridge and Mr. Ridgeways take and throw they money round. New necktie every time you see him. New straw hat right spang the first warm day. Ring the bell. Walk right in, Mr. Ridgeways. Slip me dolla bill just like that. Mr. Sammers' and Mr. Plummer's and some them others, they all show class. Look Mr. Sammers' spectacles. Made turtle back. Fancy turtle, too.

I asked Miss Julia. She tell me they fancy turtle. Gold rim spectacles ain't in it. No, ma'am. Mr. Sammers' spectacles. Des them rims on his spectacles lone. I bet they cost more null what this here young lil' Mr. Dills got on him from his toes up and his skin out. I bet Mr. Plummer's throw more money round des for getting his pants press than what Mr. Dills afford to spend for his'n in the first place. He lose his struggle. Cause yo' Aunt Julia, she out for the

big class. This here Gamayr, he dog cost money. He show class same yo' Aunt Julia. Ain't neither one of them got to waste time on nobody what can't show no more class than this here lil' young discombobbery Mr. Dills. I don't care, Florence said stubbornly. He could have saved up and saved up. And if he saved up long enough, he could have got enough money to buy a dog like Gamayr. Because you can get money enough for anything if you're willing to save up long enough.

Anyway, I bet he's the one gave him to her. Herbert joined Kitty Silver in skeptical laughter. Florence is always talking about noble dill, he said. She's sort of crazy anyway, though. It runs in the family, Florence retorted automatically. I caught it from my cousins. Anyhow, I don't think there's a single one of any that wants to marry Aunt Julia that's got the slightest comparison to noble dill. I admire him because he's so uncouth.

He is who? Kitty Silver inquired. Uncouth. Yessum, said Miss Silver. It's in the dictionary, Florence explained. It means rare, elegant, exquisite, abs unknown, and a whole lot else. It does not, Herbert interposed. It means kind of countrified. You go look in the dictionary, his cousin said severely. Then maybe you'll know what you're talking about just for once. Anyhow, I do like noble dill. And I bet so does Aunt Julia.

Kitty Silver shook her head. He lose his struggle, honey. Miss Julia, she out for the big class. She ain't steady in about him, sep maybe just to let him run her errands. She treat him almighty nice around, class or no class. Why, the more hotter that big class got to work to get her, and the more she got after her the more keeps a-coming. But this here young little Mr. Dills, I kind of got a strong notion he liable not come no more tall. Her tone had become one of

reminiscent amusement which culminated in a burst of laughter. Wee, she concluded. After last night, I reckon this here Mr. Dills better keep away from the place. Yessum. Florence looked thoughtful and for the first time said nothing. It was Herbert who asked, Why'd Mr. Dill better stay away from here? Mrs. Silver decided that it would be more enjoyable to become ominously significant. Consequently, her merriment disappeared. Yo, Grandpa, she said,

her head. Yo, Grandpa. What about Grandpa? said Herbert. What did he do last night? Do? My goodness. Mrs. Silver uttered sounds like the lowing of kind whereby she meant to indicate her utter inability to describe Mr. Atwater's performance. Well, ma'am, she said, husky voice of simulated exhaustion. All I got to say, Yo, Grandpa beat his self. He beat his self. How do you mean? How could he? He beat his self. He dess out talk his self. No, ma'am,

I done hear him many and many and many's the time. But last night he beat his self. What about? Nothing in the whole wide world but this here young little noble Dills. What we been talking about this livin' minute? What started him? What started him? Mrs. Silver echoed with sudden loudness. My goodness, he been started ever since the very first time he ever laid eyes on him, prancing up the front walk to call on Miss Julia. Yo, Grandpa, do like none of them callers,

but he everlastingly did up and take a true spite on this here little Dills. I mean, said Herbert, what started him last night? Them cigarettes, said Kitty Silver. Them cigarettes what this here noble Dills smoke while he's settin' out on the front porch on Yo, Aunt Julia. Yo, Grandpa, mighty funny man about smellin'. You know as well as I do he don't even like the smell of violets. Well, ma'am, if he can't stand violets, how in the name of misery he goin' to

stand the smell of them cigarettes this here Dills smoke? I can't hardly stand them myself. When he light one on the front porch, she siffl through the house and bime. She take me in the nose and like to choke me. Yo, Grandpa, already told Miss Julia time and time again if that little Dills light does one more on his front porch, he gon' walk out there and do some harm. Course, she never took and pay no attention, cause Miss Julia, she never pay no attention to nobody,

and she like color have a nice time. She ain't goin' to tell him Yo, Grandpa, make such a fuss. Yes, deed. I like please strike a match for to light my cigarette if you please, ma'am. She say, Light as many as you please, kind friend, she say, she say. She say, Smell a cigarette does delightful little smell, she say. Go ahead and smoke all you can stand, she say, cause I want you to enjoy yourself when you pay call on me, she say. So this here young

little Dills settin' there puffin' and puffin' and blowin' his chest out and in and feelin' all slicked up cause it about the first time this livin' summer he catch Yo, Aunt Julia alone to his self for a while, and all time the house does fillin' up and draft blowin' straight at Yo, Grandpa, where he's sittin' in his library. Ma'am, he sent me out and tell her come in, he got message mighty important for to speak to her. So she tell this here Dills, wait a minute,

and walk in the library. Oh, ladies! What he say? Herbert asked eagerly. He didn't say nothin'. Mrs. Silver replied eloquently. He hollered. What did he holler? He want to know didn't he never tell her this here Dills can't smoke no more cigarettes on his property, and didn't he tell her he wasn't going to allow him on the place

know how. He say she got to go back on the poach and run this here Lil Dills off home. He say he gave her fair choice. She can run him off, or else he go on out and chase him away his self. He claim Lil Dills ain't got no business round Collin nowhere tall, cause he only make fourteen dollars a week and ain't worth it. He say she was confirmed in this report by an indignant interruption from Florence. That's just what he did say the old thing. I heard him myself,

and if you care to ask me, I'll be glad to inform you that I think Grandpa's conduct was simply insulting. Deed it were, said Mrs. Silver. That's just what he claim himself he mean it for. But you tell me please how you hear what your Grandpa say. He mighty noisy, but you neve could a hear him plung to where you live. I wasn't home, said Florence. I was over here. Then you must have made yourself mighty skimpish, cause I ain't seen you. Nobody saw me. I wasn't in the house,

said Florence. I was out front. Where bout's out in front? Well, I was sitting on the ground up against the latticework of the front porch. What fur? Well, it was dark, said Florence. I just kind of wanted to see what might be going on. And you hear all what your Grandpa talking on about and everything? I should say so. You could have heard him lots farther than where I was. Land of misery, Kitty Silver cried. If you done hear him where you was, this here Lil Dills must

a hear him mighty plain. He did. How could he help it? He heard every word, and pretty soon he came down off the porch and stood a minute. Then he went on out the gate. And I don't know whether he went home or not, because it was too dark to see. But he didn't come back. You're right he didn't, exclaimed Mrs. Silver. I reckon he got both on enough for that, anyhow. I bet he ain't never going to come back neither. Your Grandpa say he go and be fixed for him if he do.

Yes, that was while he was standing there, said Florence ruefully. He heard all that, too. Miss Julia, she spishing he done hear something other, I guess, Kitty Silver went on. She shut the library door almost right almost on your Grandpa's nose, while he was still a rampant. And she slip out on the porch and take look round, then go on up to her own room. I is up there while after that turn down her bed. And she enjoying her self-reading book. She feel kind of put out,

I reckon, but she ain't steady in bout no young Lil Dills. She want Amal to have nice time and like her. But she going to lose this one, and she got plenty to spare. She show too much class for DeFred about no Dills. I don't care, said Florence. I think she ought to fret whether she does or not, because I bet he was feeling just awful, and I think Grandpa behaved like an old hoodlum. That'll do, Herbert admonished her sternly. You show some respect for your relations, if you please.

But his loyalty to the Atwater family had a bad effect on Florence. Oh, will I? she returned promptly. Well, I just politely think Grandpa ought to be hanged. See here, but Florence and Kitty Silver interrupted him simultaneously. Look at that! Florence cried. My name! exclaimed Kitty Silver. It was the strange taste of Gummire which so excited them. Florence had peeled her orange,

and divided it rather fairly into three parts. But the vehemence she exerted in speaking of her peculiar old grandfather caused her to drop one of the sections upon the ground. Gummire promptly ate it, sat up, and adjusted his pause in prayer for more. Now you listen to me, said Kitty Silver. I ain't seen no dog eat orange in all my days, and I ain't seen nobody else what see dog eat orange. No, ma'am, and I ain't never hear of nobody what see dog eat orange.

Herbert decided to be less impressed. Oh, I've heard of dogs that'd eat apples, he said. Yes, and watermelon and nuts and things. As he spoke, he played with the tennis ball upon his racket, and concluded by striking the ball high into the air. Its course was not true, and it descended far over toward the orchard, where Herbert ran to catch it. But he was not quick enough. At the moment the ball left the

racket, Gummire abandoned his prayers. His eyes, like a careful fielder's, calculating and estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in the breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct spot. He caught it. Herbert shouted, He caught it on the fly! It must have been an accident. Here! And he struck the ball into the air again. It went high, twice as high as the house. And again Gummire judged it. Slowly and continuously shifting his position, his careful

eyes never leaving the little white globe, until just before the last instant of its descent he was motionless beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert whooped. Gummire brought the ball to him and invited him to proceed with the game. That there might be no mistaking his ardent desire, Gummire sat up and prayed. Nor did he find Herbert anything loath. Out of nine chances, Gummire muffed the ball only twice, both times excusably, and Florence once more flung her arms

about the willing performer. Who do you suppose trained this wonderful darling doggy? She cried. Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. He must have come that away. She said, I bet nobody tall trained him. He'd do what he'd want to do himself. That Gummire don't ask nobody train him. Then the enraptured Florence released Gummire, and he wild-dogged again to the hilarious screamings of the three. Oh, goodness! Florence said, with a despondency which came upon her

as the wild-dog tamed himself abruptly, and returned to sit with them. It's awful! What is? To think of as lovely a dog as this having to meet Grandpa! Meet him! Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. I reckon your Grandpa do mourn d'us meet him. That's what I mean, Florence explained. I expect he's just brute enough to drive him off. Yes, um, said Mrs. Silver. He get madder every time somebody send her new pet.

Your Grandpa mighty nervous man and everlastingly do hate animals. He hasn't seen Gummire, has he? Don't look like it, do it, said Kitty Silver. Dog here yet? Well, then I— Florence paused, glancing at Herbert, for she had been visited by a pleasant idea

which she did not wish to share with him. Is Aunt Julia in the house? She were a little while ago. I want to see her about something I ought to see her about, said Florence. I'll be out in a minute. She ran into the house and found her excessively pretty young aunt seated at a slim-legged desk, reading over a note which she had just written.

Aunt Julia, it's about Gummire. Gammon. What? His name is Gammon. Kitty Silver says his name's Gummire.

Yes, said Julia. She would. His name is Gammon, though. He's a little Parisian rascal, and his name is Gammon. Well, Aunt Julia, I'd rather call him Gummire, though. How much did he cost? I don't know. He was brought to me only this morning, and I haven't asked yet. But I thought somebody gave him to you.

Yes, they did. Well, I mean—said Florence—how much did the person that gave him to you pay for him? Julia sighed. I just explained. I haven't had a chance to ask. Florence looked hurt. I don't mean you would ask him right out. I just meant—wouldn't you be liable to kind of hint around and give him a chance to tell you how

much it was? You know perfectly well it's the way most the family do when they give each other something pretty expensive—Christmas or birthdays—and I thought probably you'd— No. I shouldn't be surprised, Florence, if nobody ever got to know how much Gammon cost. Well— Florence said, and decided to approach her purpose on a new tack.

Who was it trained him? I understand that the person who gave him to me has played with him at times during the few days he's been keeping him, but hasn't trained him particularly. French poodles almost learn their own tricks if you give them a chance. It's natural to them. They love to be little clowns if you let them. But who was this person that gave him to you?

Julia laughed. It's a secret, Florence, like Gammaier's prize. At this Florence looked piqued. Well, I guess I got some manners! she exclaimed. I know as well as you do, Aunt Julia. There's no etiquette in coming right square out and asking how much it was when somebody goes and makes you a present. I'm certainly enough of a lady to keep

my mouth shut when it's more polite to. But I don't see what harm there is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present. No harm at all, Julia murmured as she sealed the note she had written. Then she turned smilingly to face her knees. Only I'm not going to. Well then, Aunt Julia. And now Florence came to her point. What I wanted to know is just simply the plain question. Will you give this dog Gammaier to me? Julia leaned forward, laughing, and suddenly clapped her hands

together close to Florence's face. No, I won't, she cried. There! The knees frowned, lines of anxiety appearing upon her forehead. Well, why won't you? I won't do it. But, Aunt Julia, I think you ought to. Why ought I to? Because, said Florence, well, it's necessary. Why? Because if you don't, you know as well as I do what's bound to happen to him. What is? Grandpa'll chase him off, said Florence. He'll take after him the minute he lays eyes on him

and scare him to death, and then he'll get lost and he won't be anybody's dog. I should think you'd just as leave he'd be my dog as have him chased all over town till a streetcar hits him or something. But Julia shook her head. That hasn't happened yet. It did happen with every other one you ever had, Florence urged plaintively. He chased them every last one off the place, and they never came back. You know perfectly well, Aunt Julia,

Grandpa's just bound to hate this dog, and you know just exactly how he'll act about him. No, I don't, said Julia. Just not exactly. Well, anyway, you know he'll behave awful. It's probable, the Aunt admitted. He always does, the niece continued. He behaves awful about everything I ever heard about. He—

I'll go pretty far with you, Florence, Julia interposed. But we'd better leave him a loophole. You know he's a constant attendant at church and contributes liberally to many good causes. Oh, you know what I mean! I mean he always acts horrible about anything pleasant. Of course, I know he's a good man in everything. I just mean the way he behaves is perfectly disgusting. So what's the use you're not giving me this dog? You won't have him yourself as soon as

Grandpa comes home to lunch in an hour or so. Oh, yes, I will. Grandpa hasn't seen him already, has he? No. Then what makes you say he isn't coming home to lunch? He won't be home until five o'clock

this afternoon. Well, then, by six you won't have any dog, and poor Gamayra'll probably be run over by a streetcar some time in the evening. Florence's voice became anguished in the emphasis of her appeal. Aunt Julia, won't you give me this dog? Julia shook her head. Won't you please? No, dear. Aunt Julia, if it was Noble Dill gave you this dog? Florence, her aunt exclaimed. What in the world makes you imagine such absurd things? Poor Mr.

Dill! Well, if it was, I think you ought to give Gamayra to me, because I like Noble Dill, and I— But here her aunt laughed again, and looked at her with some curiosity. You do, she said. What for? Well, said Florence, swallowing, he may be rather smallish for a man, but he's very uncouth and distinguished-looking, and I think he doesn't get to enjoy himself much. Grandpa talks about

him so terribly, and—and— Here such was the unexpected depth of her feeling that she choked, whereupon her aunt, overcome with laughter, but nevertheless somewhat touched, sprang up and threw two pretty arms about her charmingly. You funny Florence, she cried. Then will you give me Gamayra? said Florence instantly. No, we'll bring him in the house now, and you can stay to lunch. Florence was imperfectly consoled, but she had a thought that brightened her.

Well, there'll be an awful time when Grandpa comes home this afternoon, but it certainly will be interesting. She proved a true prophet, at least to the extent that when Mr. Atwater opened his front gate that afternoon, he was already in the presence of a deeply interested audience, whose observation was unknown to him. Through the interstices of the lace curtains at an open window downstairs, the gaze of Julia and Florence was concentrated upon him in a manner

which might have disquieted even so opinionated and peculiar an elderly man as Mr. Atwater had he been aware of it. And Herbert likewise watched him from an unseen post. Herbert had shown some braggadocio, declaring loudly that he intended to lounge in full view. But when the well-known form of the ancestor was actually identified coming up the street out of the distance, the descendant changed his mind. The good green earth abruptly ceased to seem secure,

and Herbert climbed a tree. He surrounded himself with the deepest foliage, and below him some outlying foothills of Mrs. Kitty's silver were perceptible where she endeavored to lurk in the concealment of a lilac bush. Gammire was the only person in view. He sat just in the middle of the top step of the front porch, and his air was that of an endowed and settled institution. What passing traffic there was interested him but vaguely, not affecting the world to which he

belonged, the world being this house and lot of which he was now, beyond all question, the official dog. It had been a rather hard-working afternoon, for he had done everything suggested to him, as well as a great many other things which he thought of himself. He had also made it clear that he had taken the most particular fancy to everybody, but recognized Julia to be the head of the house and of the universe. It was love at first sight, and though he was at the disposal

of all her family and friends, he was at her disposal first. However suddenly she was his Naomi, and whithersoever she went there would he go also, unless she otherwise commanded. Just now she had withdrawn, closing the door, but he understood she intended no permanent exclusion. Who was this newcomer at the gate? The newcomer came to an abrupt halt, staring angrily. Then he advanced, slamming the gate behind him.

Get out of here! he said in a harsh and forbidding voice. You get off this place! Gamayr regarded him seriously, not moving, while Mr. Atwater cast an eye about the lawn, seeming to search for something, and his gaze, thus roving, was arrested by a slight movement of great areas behind a lilac bush. It appeared that some public building had covered its dome with antique textiles, and was endeavoring to conceal it there. A failure!

Kitty Silver! he said. What are you doing? Suh? debouching sidewise slowly, she came to fuller view, but retired a few steps. What I doing where, Mr. Atwater? How'd that dog get on my front steps? Her face became noncommittal entirely. This here dog? He just settin' there suh. How'd he get in the yard? Must somebody up and brung him in? Who did it? You mean who up and brung

him in, suh? I mean who does he belong to? Must be Miss Julia's. I reckon he is so far. What? She knows perfectly well I won't allow dogs on this place. Mr. Atwater's expression became more outraged and determined. You mean to say that somebody's trying to give her another dog after all I've been through with? It looks that way, suh. Who did it? Miss Julia ain't sayin'. And me, I don't know who done it no more in the lilies

of the valley, what toil not neither do they spins. At this Mr. Atwater was guilty of exclamations lacking in courtesy, and turned again toward Gamayr. He waved his arms fiercely. Didn't you hear me tell you to get out of here? Gamayr observed the gesture, and at once, sat up, placed his forepaws over his nose, and prayed. Mr. Atwater was incensed. Get out of here, you wooly black scoundrel! Mrs. Silver startled, uttered a cry of injury,

then perceived that she had mistaken her employer's intention. Gamayr also appeared to mistake it, for he rose to his full height, on his hind legs, and in this human-like posture, hopped down the steps, and walked in a wide circle. He did this with an affection of conscientiousness thoroughly hypocritical. He really meant to be humorous and entertaining, but the effect upon the gentleman for whom he performed was not reassuring.

My heavens! Mr. Atwater cried lamentably. Somebody's given her one of those things at last. I don't like any kind of dog, but if there's one damn thing on earth I won't stand, it's a trick poodle. And while the tactless Gamayr went madly on, walking a circle around him, Mr. Atwater's eye furiously searched the borders of the path, the lawn, and other wares, looking for anything that might serve as an effective missile. He had never kicked a dog nor struck one with his hand in his

life. He had a confirmed theory that it was always better policy to throw something. Idiot poodle, he said. But Gamayr's tricks were not mere idiocy in the eyes of Mr. Atwater's daughter as she watched them. They had brought to her mind the tricks of the jongleur of Notre Dame, that simple creature who had nothing to offer heaven itself to mollify heaven's rulers except his entertainment of juggling and nonsense, so that he sang his thin jocosities and played his

poor tricks of légère demeign before the sacred figure of the Madonna. But when the pious would have struck him down for it, she miraculously came to life for just long enough to smile on him and show that he was right to offer his absurd best. And thus, as Julia watched the little jongleur upon the lawn, she saw that was what he was doing, too—offering all he knew, hoping that someone might laugh at him and like him. And, not curiously after all, if everything were known,

she found herself thinking of another foolish creature who had nothing in the world to offer anybody except what came out of the wistfulness of a foolish, loving heart. Then, though her lips smiled faintly as she thought of noble dill, all at once a brightness trembled along the eyelids of the prettiest girl in town and glimmered over a moment later to shine upon her cheek. You get out! Mr. Atwater shouted. Do ye hear me, you poodle?

He found a missile, a stone of fair diameter. He hurled it violently. There, darn you! The stone missed, and Gamayr fled desperately in the direction in which it had gone. You get over that fence! Mr. Atwater bellowed. You wait until I find another rock, and I'll bust a rib for you. He began to search for another stone, but before he could find one, Gamayr returned with the first. He deposited upon the ground at Mr. Atwater's feet.

Here's your rock, he said. Mr. Atwater looked down at him fiercely, and through the black chrysanthemum two garnet eyes glinted waggishly. Didn't you hear me tell you what I'd do if you didn't get out of here, you darn poodle? Gamayr sat up, placed his four paws together over his nose, and prayed. There's your rock, he said. Let's get on with the game. Mr. Atwater turned to Kitty Silver. Does he know how to speak or shake hands or anything like that?

Two mornings later, as the peculiar old man sat at breakfast, he said to the lady across the table. Look here, who did give Gamayr to us? Julia bit her lip. She even cast down her eyes. Well, who was it? Her demureness still increased. It was—Noble Dill. Mr. Atwater was silent. He looked down and caught a clownish gleam out of a blackness neighboring his knee. Well, see here, he said. Why can't you—why can't you—why can't I what?

Why can't you sit out in the yard the next time he calls here, instead of on the porch where it blows all through the house? It's just as pleasant to sit under the trees, isn't it? Pleasanter, said Julia. And her black sapphire eyes still remained demure under the deep lashes. Gamayr appeared to be a successful envoy. It seemed even possible that, like Orlando's wrestling, he had overthrown more than his enemy.