The dog saw that a climax in their joy had been reached so he barked gladly, at which the doctor laughed like a boy.
It was just at this point in their confidential conversation that Hilda and her father came on deck. The doctor, who had not known that they were aboard, greeted them joyously, while Pep fairly wagged his tail off at the sight of his little playmate. Soon the two were racing up and down the deck in the finest kind of a romp. This was after Hilda had heard the story of Pep’s bravery and spelled out the inscription on his new collar.
“Come, Pep,” said Hilda. “Let’s you and I sit here on this steamer rug and visit while our fathers talk and smoke. I mean while my father and your master visit. I haven’t hurt your feelings by saying he was not your father, have I?” inquired Hilda. “I wouldn’t hurt the feelings of such a brave dog for the whole world.”
Pep assured her with several warm dog kisses fairly upon the lips that his feelings were not hurt and she once more read the inscription on the collar.
“I’m awfully proud of you, Pep,” said Hilda. “You are as brave as a soldier. Do you know I always remember you in my prayers? That is because you saved my life. I say, ‘Please, God, keep Pep and give him lots of bones to eat.’”
The terrier wagged his appreciation. Of course he did not know what she was saying, but he knew it was something good, and he must remember his manners and be appreciative. So he wagged and kissed and rubbed his cheek against hers.
“I think this is the very best morning I ever saw,” said Hilda with a sigh of perfect rapture.
“So do I,” agreed Pep with a short, glad bark.
“Let’s be friends always,” said Hilda, hugging the dog to her breast.
“All right,” sniffed Pep, showering her face with dog kisses, “forever and forever.”