The dog was sitting on his haunches on the ground below, watching us, and it was quite plain to be seen, from his leisurely manner, that it was not his busy day. He bared his teeth and growled when he caught my eye.
“You LOOK like a woman hater’s dog,” I told him. I meant it for an insult; but the beast took it for a compliment.
Then I set myself to solving the question, “How am I to get out of this predicament?”
It did not seem easy to solve it.
“Shall I scream, William Adolphus?” I demanded of that intelligent animal. William Adolphus shook his head. This is a fact. And I agreed with him.
“No, I shall not scream, William Adolphus,” I said. “There is probably no one to hear me except Alexander Abraham, and I have my painful doubts about his tender mercies. Now, it is impossible to go down. Is it, then, William Adolphus, possible to go up?”
I looked up. Just above my head was an open window with a tolerably stout branch extending right across it.
“Shall we try that way, William Adolphus?” I asked.
William Adolphus, wasting no words, began to climb the tree. I followed his example. The dog ran in circles about the tree and looked things not lawful to be uttered. It probably would have been a relief to him to bark if it hadn’t been so against his principles.
I got in by the window easily enough, and found myself in a bedroom the like of which for disorder and dust and general awfulness I had never seen in all my life. But I did not pause to take in details. With William Adolphus under my arm I marched downstairs, fervently hoping I should meet no one on the way.