"Think of the cost of feeding a big dog!"
"But I told you before, it will probably feed on the animals it kills."
"Suppose it doesn't kill any?"
"It had better," said Anthony. "That's why I sent for the catalogue. We'll have to take a look at the qualities of the different breeds, and not depend entirely on Small's otherwise excellent criterion of size. We want a dog that's kind and affectionate with a child; tough, adaptable, a good hunter; and easy to care for. There are several that seem to fit the bill, but of course it's hard to be sure from a catalogue alone. And a lot depends on the individual dog, too. Why not tell the Dog Breeding Station what we want, and leave the final choice up to them?"
"But we're not sure—"
It was at that moment that for the first time there came a scratching not at the door, but at the shutter.
Alice looked at her husband and her child, and then hugged the latter closely. "Thank God you're home," she told Anthony.
The shutters were not as resistant as the doors, and they both knew it. But for the moment, the creature outside seemed to have trouble making up its mind. The scratching stopped, and then began again, at another shutter.
"As long as it isn't at the door, I have a chance to slip out before it can slip in—I hope," said Anthony. He picked up his gun. "Get Small behind the other door, and bar it."
"Don't be silly. I'll put Small there, but I'm staying here. I'll keep the explosive gun in readiness, just in case."