If the Yellow Dog was put out he exhibited no signs of annoyance. He smiled pleasantly as Buddie came up, and held out a paw in his best manner.
“Who’s your friend with the long ears?” he asked in an undertone.
“They both have long ears,” replied Buddie, looking from the Rabbit to the Donkey. “But I suppose you mean Professor Bray. He’s dreadfully wise. He’s been everywhere and knows everything and everybody.”
“Present me,” requested Colonel; and Buddie contrived to do so, after a fashion; “presenting” people was a new experience.
“What war were you in, Colonel?” asked the Donkey, affably.
“No war of any account,” replied the Yellow Dog, “unless you would call a brush with Indians—”
“Sufficient to justify the title? Certainly. I served six months in South Africa and was decorated—”
Buddie did not wait to hear the repetition of the story. At the Rabbit’s suggestion she moved along and made the acquaintance of various members of the Club.
There was a Reticent Magpie, who never spoke unless he was spoken to, and whose only replies were Yes and No; a Refined Pig, who never grunted, and who would walk miles out of his way to avoid mud or bog land; an Improvident Squirrel, who never laid by nuts for a rainy or wintry day, and was continually borrowing supplies of his neighbor, a Prosperous Churchmouse, who was so fat that he could barely waddle; a Bat, who could see for miles, and who always officiated as judge in the club races; a Hen with the toothache, and a number of others of more or less account.
