“Ahow!” yelped the dog.
“Why did you ask?”
“Because it seemed curious. I say, Gwyn, I believe I did that man an injustice.”
“What man an injustice?” said Gwyn, who was pretending to tie the dog’s long silky ears in a knot across his eyes.
“Tom Dinass.”
The dog bounded from where he stood on his hind-legs resting on his master’s knees, and burst into a furious fit of barking.
“Hark at him!” cried Gwyn. “Talk about dogs being intelligent animals? It’s wonderful. He never liked the fellow. Hi! Tom Dinass there. Did he break your legs, Grip?”
The dog barked furiously, and ended with a savage growl.
“Just like we are,” said Gwyn, “like some people, and hate others. I begin to think you were right, Joe, and he did do it.”
“Oh, no—impossible!”