“Is this a special treat for him then?” I asked, scarcely able to keep back a smile.
“Yes,” she answered, nodding eagerly, and then she went and sat beside the dog on the floor.
“This is father’s dog,” said she. “Sometimes it goes away with him. It is very faithful, and once it got caught in a trap and was stolen. But after a while it got away and came back again. It was so weak that it could scarcely crawl to the outer gates, and then it fell down, for it couldn’t come any farther by itself.”
“Who had stolen it?” I inquired.
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. I can’t quite understand. They must have been very ignorant, mustn’t they?”
“Why?”
“Well, you see, when you steal it means you take something that doesn’t belong to you by mistake.”
“Oh,” said I, and waited for further instruction.
“Yes, it means you don’t know what you’re doing.”