"No, you can't bother him. He has to get his meals buried for the winter," William scolded, struggling with the fat little beast, which was almost as strong as he was.
"Oh, let him go, William," said Lucy. "You know he's afraid of the squirrels when he gets near them. He just wants to prance around and bark at them."
"All right, then," said William, opening his arms and letting Happy go with a wild rush and scamper down the steps, which finished as usual in his backing hastily away from the angry, chattering squirrel before him, to stand furiously barking for a minute, then stopping short to wag his tail in the most friendly way as though peace had been declared.
"He's a fake," said Lucy laughing. "He can't expect to scare them after that."
Marian went indoors, when they had cleared things up, to take her daily nap, and Lucy followed her mother up-stairs and into her room.
"What are you going to do, Mother?" she asked uncertainly.
"Well, I think I'll mend some of William's clothes first," said Mrs. Gordon, sitting down beside her work-table. "Why, Lucy?"
"I just wanted to talk to you a few minutes," Lucy began, her face grown serious as she sat down and clasped her hands about one knee. "Mother, I feel like an awful good-for-nothing saying this, but I can't help it. I just have the blues terribly, and somehow it seems as though we were all waiting for dreadful things to happen, and nothing seems worth doing—at least nothing that I can do."