He looked up at sound of his old name, and made acknowledgment by flattening his ears a quivering trifle and by touching his nose against Harley’s shoulder.
“Nor does he seem demonstrative,” was Villa’s judgment. “At least, nothing like Jerry,”
“Wait till they meet,” Harley smiled in anticipation. “Jerry will furnish enough excitement for both of them.”
“If they remember each other after all this time,” said Villa. “I wonder if they will.”
“They did at Tulagi,” he reminded her. “And they were full grown and hadn’t seen each other since they were puppies. Remember how they barked and scampered all about the beach. Michael was the hurly-burly one. At least he made twice as much noise.”
“But he seems dreadfully grown-up and subdued now.”
“Three years ought to have subdued him,” Harley insisted.
But Villa shook her head.
As the machine drew up at the house and Kennan first stepped out, a dog’s whimperingly joyous bark of welcome struck Michael as not altogether unfamiliar. The joyous bark turned to a suspicious and jealous snarl as Jerry scented the other dog’s presence from Harley’s caressing hand. The next moment he had traced the original source of the scent into the limousine and sprung in after it. With snarl and forward leap Michael met the snarling rush less than half-way, and was rolled over on the bottom of the car.
The Irish terrier, under all circumstances amenable to the control of the master as are few breeds of dogs, was instantly manifest in Jerry and Michael an Harley Kennan’s voice rang out. They separated, and, despite the rumbling of low growling in their throats, refrained from attacking each other as they plunged out to the ground. The little set-to had occurred in so few seconds, or fractions of seconds, that they had not begun to betray recognition of each other until they were out of the machine. They were still comically stiff-legged and bristly as they aloofly sniffed noses.