"They didn't seem able to," thought Irma.
"Well, he's Irma's dog now," said Uncle Jim decidedly. "You would be quite sure he knows to whom he belongs if you could see him follow Irma about, as I saw him last summer."
"Nap, as you call him, 'Pat' as I say, is still my dog. I have never given him away. Every one knows that," and Katie looked in defiance at Irma.
"As the bone of contention is so far away, by which I do not mean that Pat is unduly thin, it seems as if we might leave the subject in peace for the present."
"Of course," continued Katie, "I did not expect to be in Europe so long. But I am to join grandma in Paris next month, and a week or two later we shall sail. I shall be glad enough to see Pat again."
There was no more just then for Irma to say. She wondered if Katie really meant what she said. Later, when they were alone, she would ask her.
Soon Katie left the sitting-room, and Marion and Irma and one or two others for whom letters had come proceeded to read them.
Richard, who had been politely silent for some time, now turned to Irma, when he saw she was at leisure. "Would you mind telling us about the little dog. All I could understand was that Katie intends to have her own way about something, and when that is the case, it is very hard to make her change her mind."
"I should like to hear about it, too," said Marion. "I know just a little about Nap."