He pushed open the gate of Mrs. Granger’s garden, and was very much comforted by Sandy’s ecstatic welcome. Dogs did know. They appreciated it when you meant well; they were not suspicious, not mocking. When you gave them something they accepted it in good faith.
He went on toward the house, walking rapidly, impatient to get in there to the gentle serenity of Mrs. Granger’s presence. He rang the bell, and directly the parlor-maid opened the door he knew he was not going to have peace and solace.
Something had gone wrong. He could hear Leroy’s voice raised in a loud, forlorn bellow, and Mrs. Granger’s voice, tearful and trembling, and Captain MacGregor’s voice, with a slightly exasperated note in it. He entered the sitting room, and there was Mrs. Granger, weeping, and Leroy sobbing. Sandy began to bark.
“Oh, Mr. Anderson!” cried Mrs. Granger. “How can you let him do that? Oh, please keep him quiet!”
Anderson put the dog outside, and then returned.
“But what’s the matter?” he asked.
“Leroy’s been bitten by a m-mad d-dog!” cried Mrs. Granger.
“Was not a mad dog!” Leroy asserted.
“See! Here on his leg!” she went on.
“And he never told me! It happened late yesterday!”