Bridget laid her head on his shoulder.
"Oh, daddy," she exclaimed, in a sort of choked voice, "it is too good to feel your arms about me again; I am too happy."
"Don't you want to see Minerva's pups, miss?" asked the small and rather officious little ragged girl called Molly.
"Yes, to be sure. And she has had four, the darling; the dear, noble pet. Do take me to the litter at once, won't you, father?"
The mention of Minerva and her progeny was so intensely exciting that even sentiment was put aside, and the Squire, Biddy, Lady Kathleen, and all the retainers went in a motley procession to the stables, where the little red-tipped pups were huddled together, and the proud Minerva was waiting to show off their many beauties.
Biddy made several appropriate observations; not a point about the four little dogs was lost upon her. She and her father grew almost solemn in the earnestness with which they discussed the virtues and charms of the baby pups.
Minerva was petted and praised; hunger and fatigue were alike forgotten in the exciting and delicious task of examining the valuable puppies. Bridget knelt on the ground, regardless of her pretty and expensive traveling dress. A pup's short, expressive nose rubbed her cool cheek, Minerva's head lay on her knee; the animal's beautiful, expressive eyes were raised to hers, full of maternal pride and melting love. Another little pup lay on the Squire's big palm, a third nestled on Biddy's shoulder; a fourth tried to yelp feebly as it was huddled up in Molly's ragged apron.
Lady Kathleen stood over the group of adorers laughing and ejaculating. Somebody screamed in the distance that supper was ready, and that a feast was waiting in the kitchen for all the retainers in honor of Miss Bridget's return.
There was a scamper at this; even Molly put the cherished pup back into its basket, and Bridget, her father, and aunt entered the house arm in arm.