One beautiful day, while the dancing crane was holding a levée of sea-gulls, with a sprinkling of rooks, far seawards on the wet sands, while Mr Tandy was seated, smoking as usual, on a bench with his children near him, Bob uttered a defiant kind of a growl, and stood up with his hair on end from ears to rump. A gentleman dressed in blue, with sailor’s cap on his head, and reading a newspaper, was approaching the seat, on which there was plenty of room for one more.
But it was not at him that Bob was growling. No, but at a beautiful Scottish collie which was walking by his side.
Bob rushed forward at once, and the two met face to face and heads up.
Scottie carried his tail defiantly high.
Young England would have done the same with his, had he had anything to show.
The conversation seemed to be somewhat as follows:—
“You and I are about the same size, aren’t we?” said Bob.
“There isn’t much to figure on between us, I think,” replied Scottie.
“Lower your flag, then, or I’ll shake you out of your skin.”
“Scotland never lowered flag to a foreigner yet. Why don’t you raise your standard? Why, because you haven’t got one to raise. Ha, ha! what a fright you are! I only wonder your master lets you go about like that.”