“I won’t have that dog here.”
“When I had a home,” remarked Clare, “our servant said the cook was queen of the kitchen: I don’t want to be rude, ma’am, but I must do as she told me.”
“She never told you to bring that mangy animal in here!”
“She knew he would follow me, and she said nothing about him. But he’s not mangy. He hasn’t enough to eat to be mangy. He’s as lean as a dried fish!”
The housemaid, being fat, was inclined to think the remark personal; but Clare looked up at her with such clear, honest, simple eyes, that she forgot the notion, and thought what a wonderfully nice boy he looked.
“He’s shamefully poor, though! His clothes ain’t even decent!” she remarked to herself.
And certainly the white skin did look through in several places.
“You won’t let him put his nose in anything, will you?” she said quite gently, returning his smile with a very pleasant one of her own.
“Abdiel is too much of a gentleman to do it,” he answered.
“A dog a gentleman!” rejoined the housemaid with a merry laugh, willing to draw him out.