"I might try her again," she said thoughtfully.
"She must stay here as long as I do, at least; or else I can't remain."
She inserted her little finger into a buttonhole of my coat and said, without looking up, "Will you stay as long as I keep her, then?" She looked up, now, to smile at her strategy.
"I won't promise that," I replied, "but I shall certainly go if you get rid of her."
"Then I'll keep her. But it will be for you to see that she behaves, Mr. Chet."
With that, she was away again, debonairly frolicsome.
I felt as if I had won the first battle, and could afford to hope that I might manage her. I was, however, skating on pretty thin ice, and it would take considerable skill to keep out of danger if I pursued these tactics much further. I had to encourage her enough to propitiate her and keep her friendly, without letting the affair get away from my control.
She danced into the library again to suggest that we go for a walk, and I followed her outdoors. As we passed the yard in the rear I saw the dogs lying in the sun. We had not got within twenty feet of them when they all rose, laid back their ears and began to growl. Old Nokomis, who had greeted me so affectionately, only a half-hour ago, stood with her brush down, grumbling, her head tilted, her eyes on Miss Fielding.
She turned to King, who was filling a pail at the pump.
"Say, King, you tie up the dogs in the stable, hear? I won't have them about, barking and growling at me." She made an impatient threatening gesture at Nokomis, who retreated, still watching sharply, till, with an angry yelp, she turned, and ran into the stable. The other collies followed her. It was uncanny.