“How’s he comin’ on?” she asked, standing over them.
“Fine!” replied Jinnie. “And, Peg, he wants to stay.”
“Did he tell y’ that?” demanded Peg, grimly.
“Well, he didn’t say just those words,” said the girl, “but, Peggy, if he could talk, he’d tell you how much he loved you––”
“Look a here, kid,” broke in Mrs. Grandoken, “that dog ain’t goin’ to stay around this house, an’ you might as well understand it from the beginnin’. I’ve enough to do with you an’ Lafe an’ those cats, without fillin’ my house with sick pups. So get that notion right out of your noddle!... See?” 87
Jinnie bowed her head over the sick dog and made a respectful reply.
“I’ll try to get the notion out,” said she, “but, Peggy, oh, Peggy dear, I love the poor little thing so awful much that it’ll be hard for me to throw him away. Will you send him off when he’s better, and not ask me to do it?”
Jinnie cocked her pretty head inquiringly on one side, closed one eye, and looked at Peg from the other.
Peggy sniffed a ruse. She came forward, spread her feet a bit, rolling her hands nervously in her apron. She hated an everlasting show of feelings, but sometimes it was difficult for her to crush the emotions which had so often stirred in her breast since the girl came to live with them.
“I might as well tell you one thing right now, Jinnie Grandoken,” she said. “You brought that pup into this house an’ you’ll take him out, or he won’t get took; see?”