But not in anger; on the contrary, he was wild with delight; he rushed round and round the young man, lay down on his shoes, licked his hands. And when Mr. Anderson patted him, he was fairly out of his mind, and rolled in the dust.
“Oh!” cried Mrs. Granger. “But—how wonderful!” She turned to Miss Selby. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Isn’t what?” inquired Miss Selby. “I’m afraid I don’t—”
“That strange instinct that animals have!” Mrs. Granger explained solemnly.
“What instinct?” asked Miss Selby, politely. “I thought he was just a friendly little dog.”
“Oh, but he’s not friendly with every one!” cried Mrs. Granger. “Not by any means!”
It was at this point that Miss Selby’s disillusionment began. She looked at Mr. Anderson, expecting to find him looking amused, and instead of that, he was pleased—a little embarrassed, but certainly pleased!
Then the charming little lady spoke again, addressing Miss Selby:
“What darling wild roses!” she exclaimed. “I do wish I could find some!”
“They’re azaleas,” said Miss Selby. “And the woods at the foot of the hill—next to your garden—are full of them.”