CHAPTER XV
All that season we lived in a rented cottage, but before the next summer came we were planting roses in our own grounds. We had been renting just about a year, when we bought our little home in one of the suburbs; so we could fully appreciate the joys of being on our own place again.
We found a kitten, the "very moral" of Rebecca, striped black and blue-gray. She was a dear little thing, and she and Bruno soon became fast friends.
The only creature we ever knew him to bite—except, indeed, wild animals, which he considered fair game—was in defending Catsie.
His victim was a handsome coach-dog, following some friends who one day drove out to call on us. He was a thoroughbred dog, but he had not Bruno's gentlemanly instincts. The first thing he did was to go trotting around to the back porch, where he spied Catsie enjoying a fine meaty bone. He sneaked up behind her, and snatching it in his teeth, made off with it.
Bruno could not stand that. It seemed to make a perfect fury of him. I think he felt that the fault was worse, because the coach-dog was so sleek and plump; there was not even the excuse of hunger.
Poor fellow! Bruno sent him howling and limping from the yard.
The call came to an untimely end, our visitors declaring,—