“Doesn’t he? you wait till I bring him to-morrow!”
“But he never came this morning.”
“Poor little beast! Judy, the fact is I’ve gone on making the chain heavier and heavier, and this morning—well, it was too much for him. He couldn’t drag it all the way: it was a regular ship’s cable, don’t you know? I came up with him at Blackheath Station, and he was so done I had to carry him all the way home in my arms. He’s quite all right again now; I left him at home, tied to the fire-irons in my bedroom.”
“Then he does love me, after all,” said Judy.
“Well, he’s not the only one,” said the Captain.
And at that moment came from the other side of the front door the familiar whine, the well-known scratching mingled with strange clanking noises.
Next instant three happy people were embracing on the door-mat amid the sobs of Judy, the laughter of her lover, the yelps of Alcibiades, and the deafening rattle of a poker, a pair of tongs, and half a shovel.
PRINTED AT THE EDINBURGH PRESS, 9 AND 11 YOUNG STREET.