He felt the swiftness of the other's understanding - the compassion and the pity.
"Of course," said the tall man. "With your permission, sir."
16
Once there were some children (human children, playfully) who had wanted a dog - a little playful puppy. But their father said they could not have a dog because they would not know how to treat him. But they wanted him so badly and begged their father so, that he finally brought them home a dog, a cunning little puppy, a little butterball, with a paunchy belly and four wobbly legs and melting eyes, filled with the innocence of puppyhood.
The children did not treat him as badly as you might have imagined that they would. They were cruel, as all children are. They roughed and tumbled him; they pulled his ears and tail; they teased him. But the pup was full of fun. He liked to play, and no matter what they did he came back for more. Because, undoubtedly, he felt very smug in this business of associating with the clever human race, a race so far ahead of dogs in culture and intelligence that there was no comparison at all.
But one day the children went on a picnic and when the day was over they were very tired, and forgetful, as children are very apt to be. So they went off and left the puppy.
That wasn't a bad thing, really. For children will be forgetful, no matter what you do, and the pup was nothing but a dog.
The cabinet said: "You are very late, sir."
"Yes," said Bishop, dully.
"You hurt somewhere, sir. I can sense the hurt."