This was rather unwise of her ladyship, but she was excited, and she excited the little terrier in turn, for he had contented himself up to this time with snapping and barking furiously at the chintz valance hanging from the sofa, but keeping about a yard distant, as he leaped up with all four feet from the carpet at once and came down barking.
Encouraged though by her ladyship he went a little closer, barking and snarling so furiously that Joby could not contain himself any longer but softly pushed his short black nose and one eye beneath the chintz, had a look at the noisy intruder, and then, withdrew once more.
“There! I knew it,” cried her ladyship, angrily. “Oh, shame on you, shame, shame! Good little dog, then! Drive him out!”
The terrier barked again furiously, and glanced up at her ladyship, who uttered fresh words of encouragement.
Sir Grantley Wilters gave fifteen guineas for the beast, and another for his morocco and silver collar!
“Drive him out, then, good little dog!” cried her ladyship, and with a fierce rush, the terrier ran under the sofa.
There was a sharp bark, a bit of a scuffle, a worrying noise, a loud yelp cut suddenly in half, and then, frowning severely, Joby crept out from the foot of the sofa, with the hair about his neck erect, his eyes glowering, and the limp corpse of the wretched terrier hanging from his jaws.
It was all plain enough—that invisible tragedy beneath the chintz. The enemy had fastened upon one of Joby’s cheeks with his keen little teeth, and made it bleed, when, with a growl, the big dog had shaken his assailant off, caught him by the back, given him a shake like a rat, and the terrier’s head, four legs, and tail hung down together. Sir Grantley Wilters’ guineas were represented now by some inanimate skin and bone.
It was all over!
“Oh, this is dreadful!” cried her ladyship, as, with a cry of horror, Maude made for the dog.