"Indeed!" ejaculated his friend, pulling Caleb's tail, and laughing at the dog's surprise. Then he pulled it again, and laughed at the dog's jump as if he had never seen such antics before.
"See here, doctor, you don't seem to care about Downs. That dog is more to you than a human being. But you've got to listen to me."
Vox got rapturous in his account of Downs's success, and ended with, "I couldn't help wishing that his wife had been there to see him—handsome, healthy, true man in every feature and tone of voice. She would have had to fall in love again, or I'll forswear all faith in the sex."
The doctor rolled himself on the sofa in such glee that the dog accepted his master's antics as a challenge to more of his own, and pounced upon him.
"What's the matter with you now?" asked the singer, in amazement.
"Why, his wife was there," roared the doctor.
"The thunder she was!" Vox jumped up as if he had been sitting in an electric chair.
Caleb growled to hear such language in the presence of his patron saint.
"I beg your pardon, doctor, but how do you know she was there?"
"Why, I suppose she was, because Mrs. Silver promised to go and take her to hear you sing." And the doctor laughed so loud and hilariously that the collie crept under the lounge, as if in fear of some more serious explosion.