She laughed merrily at his discomfiture. “It’s a long story and Farmer Gale will be here. Hulloa,” she went on, making his confusion worse confounded, “how did Nip’s hairs get on you?”
He flushed, and flicked nervously at his coat. “There are other white dogs,” he said evasively.
“Well, don’t let him spoil your coat.”
“And what about your bodice?”
“Oh, mine isn’t new and Londony.”
He was gratified at her perception: still more at her setting down Nip. That animal, however, was in the rampageous mood which always followed his restoration to freedom, and he began leaping up at his mistress’s hand.
“Down, Nip, down! Oh, I do believe he’s bitten through my new glove!” She pulled it off ruefully to examine the damage.
“Sensible dog!” Will growled. “He knows you oughtn’t to be wearing Mr. Flippance’s gloves.”
Her own little white teeth flashed out in a mocking smile: “Lucky you are going to buy me another pair!”
“Me! Why, you wouldn’t let me when I offered.”