“Certainly, he can come. He 'belongs.'”
“And—Fudge?”
“What, that little devil of a dog? Yes, he can come, if he promises to behave himself,” and he shook his head at the culprit. “And all the chippies can come. Lots of 'em, and perhaps a couple of robins, if they haven't gone away south. And there's a big Newfoundland dog, or was before he was stolen, that could have swallowed this gentleman down at one gulp, but he won't now. HE 'belonged' and always has. And, of course, you 'belong' and so does Sam and so do I. We go out every other week and sit under these very same trees. Sam paints the branches wiggling down in the water, and I do leaky boats. When I get the picture home, I put Jane Hoggson fishin' in the stern.”
Masie rolled her eyes.
“And you don't take her with you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“'Cause she don't 'belong.' Great difference whether you belong or not. Jane Hoggson couldn't 'belong' if she was to be born all over again.”
O'Day now joined in. He had been watching Masie, noting the lights and shadows which swept over her face as the old painter chattered away. He always welcomed any plan for giving her pleasure, and was blessing Ganger in his heart for providing the diversion.
“And where is all this to take place, Mr. Ganger?” Felix asked at last.