And she actually set off, down the hill. Mr. Anderson, of course, was obliged to follow, and the dog, Sandy, had the same idea.
“Go home, old fellow!” the young man commanded.
Sandy gave a yelp of joy at being addressed, and stood expectantly beside him, grinning dog wise into his face. Mr. Anderson again ordered him home, and Mrs. Granger called him, but he did not go. He had to be dragged back by the collar and held, while Mrs. Granger fastened a leash to his collar.
“I never saw anything like it,” she declared. “He’s simply devoted to you.”
“Dogs generally take to me,” the young man admitted.
Mrs. Granger raised her soft dark eyes to his face.
“I think that’s a very wonderful thing!” said she, quietly. “Because I’m sure they know. I’d trust Sandy’s judgment against any human being’s.”
“Oh—well—” Mr. Anderson remarked, grown very red.
“You must come and see Sandy again some day,” she suggested. “Poor little doggie!”
“I will!” said he. “Yes. Thanks, very much. I will!”