"Thank you," she said. "But what shall I give you in return. It's unlucky to give an animal without some consideration."
"Oh, give me another song," he replied. "There is nobody about."
She opened her lips, then checked herself.
"No, I can't sing again," she said, in a low voice.
"Oh, all right. It isn't good for you to sing too much in the open air. I'll wait till this evening, if you'll be good enough to sing for us then."
They landed and walked up to the house. As they reached the bend leading to the entrance path, she stopped and held out the dog, which had been staring at Stafford and whining at intervals.
"Take it, please. It is fretting for you, and I'd rather not keep it."
"Really?" he said, and she saw his face brighten suddenly. "All right, if you'd rather. Come here, little man! What's your name, I wonder? What shall we call him while we've got him?"
"Call him 'Tiny;' he's small enough," she said, with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Tiny it is!" he assented, brightly. "He'll answer to it in a day or two, you'll see. I hope you haven't quite spoilt your dress, Miss Falconer, and won't regret your row!"