Jimmy was Daphne's little fox terrier. That is to say, he was hers temporarily, for he really belonged to Captain Harper. She had mentioned one day that she would like a small dog of her very own, and the young officer had looked thoughtful. The next week he had turned up, accompanied by Jimmy.
"I wish you'd accept him!" he said. "He's my dog, but I can't keep him at the Camp. I've had him boarded out in Starbury since I've been stationed here, and yesterday I went over and fetched him."
"I'll have him as a loan and take care of him till you want him again," agreed Daphne, "but I won't take him right away from you. It wouldn't be fair."
"Yes, it would, if I wanted to give him. He's the best little chap out. You'll find him a kind of epitome of the Catechism combined with all the cardinal virtues. Jimmy, make your bow!"
The little fox terrier, which sat up and saluted at its master's word of command, seemed a sharp and intelligent specimen of the canine race, and when it snuggled its nose in Daphne's hand it completely conquered her heart.
"Won't he want to run back to his master?" she asked.
"No, he has his orders and understands perfectly. I've explained the situation to him, and you'll find he won't attempt to leave you. He's prepared to carry a stick or an umbrella, mount guard over coats, bark at tramps, worry rats, or demolish burglars."
Jimmy's subsequent behaviour certainly justified the character Captain Harper had given him. Having been solemnly made over by his master, he seemed to realize his responsibilities, and attached himself to Daphne with all the strength of his doggy nature. His manners were excellent. He would lie curled up on the rug at meal-times, and did not beg until he had received express permission, only winking an occasional pathetic eye in the direction of the table.
"I'm sure he understands every single word I say to him," said Daphne, who idolized her new possession. "I don't know how I should get along without him now."
"What will you do if you have to give him back?" asked Avelyn.