“Oh, isn’t he cute!” exclaimed Miss Moore, with a smile. Then she looked rather strangely at her employer.
“It isn’t for me,” went on Mr. Blakeley, with another chuckle. “It’s Donald’s birthday and I’m going to stop at his house this afternoon. Please don’t let me forget this Dog when James comes for me.”
“I’ll remind you, Mr. Blakeley.”
Then the day’s work began in Mr. Blakeley’s office. Clerks came and went, other business men dropped in to talk over money matters, and through it all the Woolly Dog lay wrapped in the paper on Mr. Blakeley’s desk. Once, when the wind started to blow away a bundle of checks, Miss Moore put the Woolly Dog on them as a weight to hold them down.
But the Woolly Dog knew nothing of this, though, even if he had known that he was guarding thousands of dollars I do not believe he would have been proud.
He was a very good and sensible Woolly Dog.
At last the business day came to an end. Mr. Blakeley finished signing papers and dictating letters. He reached for his hat when the porter came in to say that James and the automobile were outside.
“Don’t forget the Woolly Dog!” called Miss Moore, as she saw Mr. Blakeley about to leave his office without the bundle.
“Bless me! I should say not!” he cried. “Donald wouldn’t know what to think if I drove up on his birthday without a present! Come on, Doggie,” and he whistled a little, pretending that the Woolly Dog in the parcel was alive.
Miss Moore laughed to see her employer so jolly. As for the plaything, well, the Woolly Dog was alive, in a way, for he could hear the whistle, though of course he dared not bark in answer.