|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 12
For an instant she stood thus, looking in timid appeal from one
to another of the faces about her. These faces were blank enough
as they returned her gaze. The glad expectancy was wiped from
them as with a sponge. It was the Master who first found voice.
"And THAT'S Rothsay Princess!" he snorted indignantly. "That's
the pup worth two hundred dollars at eight months, 'because she
has every single good point of Champion Rothsay Chief and not a
flaw from nostril to tail-tip'! Rothsay wrote those very words
about her, you remember. And he's supposed to be the most
dependable man in the collie business! Lord! She's undersized--no
bigger than a five monther! And she's prick-eared and apple-
domed; and her head's as wide as a church door!"
Apparently these humans were not glad to see her. Lass was
grieved at their cold appraisal and a little frightened by the
Master's tone of disgust. Yet she was eager, as ever, to make a
good impression and to lure people into liking her. Shyly she
walked up to the Mistress and laid one white little paw on her
knee.
Handshaking was Lass's one accomplishment. It had been taught her
by Dick. It had pleased the boy. He had been proud of her ability
to do it. Perhaps it might also please these strangers. And after
the odd fashion of all new arrivals who came to The Place, Lass
picked out the Mistress, rather than any one else, as a potential
friend.
The Mistress had ever roused the impatience of collie experts by
looking past the showier "points" of a dog and into the soul and
brain and disposition that lay behind them. So now she looked;
and what she saw in Lass's darkly wistful eyes established the
intruder's status at The Place.
"Let her stay!" pleaded the Mistress as the Master growled
something about bundling the dog into her crate again and sending
her back to the Rothsay Kennels. "Let her stay, please! She's a
dear."
"But we're not breeding 'dears,'" observed the Master. "We
planned to breed a strain of perfect collies. And this is a
mutt!"
"Her pedigree says there's no better collie blood in America,"
denied the Mistress. "And even if she happens to be a 'second,'
that's no sign her puppies will be seconds. See how pretty and
loving and wise she is. DO keep her!"
Which of course settled the matter.
Up the lawn, from his morning swim in the lake, strolled a great
mahogany-and-white collie. At sight of Lass he lowered his head
for a charge. He was king of The Place's dogs, this mighty
thoroughbred, Sunnybank Lad. And he did not welcome canine
intruders.
But he halted midway in his dash toward the puppy who frisked
forth so gayly to meet him. For he recognized her as a female.
And man is the only animal that will molest the female of his
species.
The fiercely silent charge was changed in a trice to a coldly
civil touching of noses, and the majestic wagging of a plumy
tail. After which, side by side, the two collies--big and little
--old and new--walked up to the veranda, to be petted by the
humans who had so amusedly watched their encounter.
"See!" exclaimed the Mistress, in triumph. "Lad has accepted her.
He vouches for her. That ought to be enough for any one!"
Thus it was that Lass found a home.
As she never yet had been taught to know her name, she learned
readily to respond to the title of "Princess." And for several
months life went on evenly and happily for her.
Indeed, life was always wondrous pleasant, there at The Place,--
for humans and for animals alike. A fire-blue lake bordered the
grounds on two sides. Behind stretched the forest. And on every
side arose the soft green mountains, hemming in and brooding over
The Place as though they loved it. In the winter evenings there
was the huge library hearth with its blaze and warmth; and a
disreputable fur rug in front of it that might have been ordained
expressly for tired dogs to drowse on. And there were the
Mistress and the Master. Especially the Mistress! The Mistress
somehow had a way of making all the world seem worth while.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|