"Yo' needn't mammy me; I ain't yo'r mammy; and what's more if I cotch yo' takin' any dog from here, I'se gwineter give yo' the worst frailin' yo' ever had. So yo' jes' bettah be skeedadlin'."
At this instant, Mrs. Davenport came to the door.
"If you wish Duke, you'll have to come into the house and get him. He's hiding behind the bed in the spare room, and I can't get him to come out."
Brown, unmindful of Maggie's threat, perhaps realizing that her bark was worse than her bite, went with Mrs. Davenport to the spare room. Beth followed after them. Brown got down upon his knees and tried to entice the dog out. Duke, however, would not budge.
"Beth, if you called him perhaps he'd come," suggested Mrs. Davenport.
Beth burst into tears. "Mamma, I can't do it. It breaks my heart to have him go."
The man arose. There was a kindlier light in his eyes. "Little un, get him for me and I'll promise not to whip him."
"Dear," whispered Mrs. Davenport, "call him; it is a kindness to Duke. He belongs to the man."
So Beth called, and immediately Duke answered the summons. However, he shrank from his owner.
"Duke," said Beth, "we'd like to keep you, but we can't. You must go quietly."