“I know we are going to have no end of trouble with that dog,” said Mr. Force.
“Oh, I think not, when we learn how to manage. We must always give him in charge of the baggage master at the start,” replied Mrs. Force.
Wynnette and Le were gone nearly an hour. At last they returned.
“What kept you so long? Did the dog prove intractable, or the baggage master unaccommodating?” inquired Odalite of Le.
“Not at all!” exclaimed Wynnette, answering for her companion. “That baggage man’s a good sort. He and Joshua became pals at once. He loves dogs, and dogs love him. As soon as ever I presented Joshua to him he held out his hand, and said:
“‘Hello, old pard! how are you? Shall we be pals?’ or words to that effect. And said Joshua slapped his paw into the open palm, and—
“‘It’s a whack!’ or barks to the same purpose.”
“But what kept you so long? What were you doing all that time?”
“Talking to the baggage master. I do like to talk to real men much better than to the curled and scented la-da-da things we meet in society. His name is Kirby. He came from Lancashire, England, where he has an old father living, to whom he sends a part of his wages every month. He is forty-five years old, and has been married twenty years, and has eleven children, the oldest eighteen and the youngest one. I told him we were going to Lancashire, and would take anything he might like to send to his dad.”
“But, my dear, Lancashire is a large county, and we may not be anywhere near his native place.”