“Perhaps they would be too beautiful with heads,” she suggested. “Do you like dogs?” she added, suddenly turning the tables on him.
“Yes, I love dogs,” Odd replied, with sincere enthusiasm.
“Three of our dogs are out there on the verandah, if you would care to know them?”
“I should very much. Perhaps you’ll show me the garden too; it looks very jolly.”
It was a pleasure to look at his extraordinarily pretty little Andromeda, and he was quite willing to spend the rest of his visit with her. They went out on the verandah, where, in the awning’s shade, lay two very nice fox terriers. A dachshund sat gazing out upon the sunlit lawn in a dog’s dignified reverie.
“Jack and Vic,” Hilda said, pointing out the two fox terriers. “They just belong to the whole family, you know. And this dear old fellow is Palamon; Arcite is somewhere about; they are mine.”
“Who named yours?”
“I did—after I read it; they had other names when they were given to me, but as I had never called them by them, I thought I had a right to change them. I wanted names with associations, like Katherine’s setters; they are called Darwin and Spencer, because Katherine is very fond of science.”
“Oh, is she?” said Odd, rather stupefied. “You seem to have a great many dogs in couples.”
“The others are not; they are more general dogs, like Jack and Vic.”