It was a sweet, clear, childish voice which thus interrupted the conversation, and the little woman said nervously, as she glanced suspiciously at Snip:
“I wish you would hold your dog, little boy. That is Gladys, an’ she’s so reckless that I’m in fear of her life every minute she is near strange animals.”
Seth did not have time to comply with this request before a pink-cheeked little miss of about his own age came dancing into the barn like a June wind, which burdens itself with the petals of the early roses.
“Oh, Aunt Hannah! Why, where in the world did that little boy—What a perfectly lovely dog! Oh, you dear!”
This last exclamation was called forth by Master Snip himself, who bounded forward with every show of joy, and stood erect on his hind feet with both forepaws raised as if asking to be taken in her arms.
“Don’t, Gladys! You mustn’t touch that animal, for nobody knows whether he may not be ferocious.”
The warning came too late. Gladys already had Snip in her arms, and as the little fellow struggled to lick her cheek in token of his desire to be on friendly terms, she said laughingly:
“You poor, foolish Aunt Hannah! To think that a mite of a dog like this one could ever be ferocious! Isn’t he a perfect beauty? I never saw such a dear!”
The little woman hovered helplessly around much like a sparrow whose fledglings are in danger. She feared lest the dog should do the child a mischief, and yet dared not come so near as to rescue her from the imaginary danger.
There was just a tinge of jealousy in Seth’s heart as he gazed at Snip’s demonstrations of affection for this stranger. It seemed as if he had suddenly lost his only friend, and, at that moment, it was the greatest misfortune that could befall him.