Waddles was polite but bored; he spent a great deal of time under the flap of the cellar door where he could keep an eye on his home from a distance. He also did a great deal of thinking in these days.
There are people who say that dogs have no family life, but that is either because these people do not really know dogs or have only seen them reared in great kennels, for kennel dogs are as different in their instincts and feelings from home dogs as orphan-asylum children are from home-cuddled babies.
Though Waddles kept rather aloof from his family, what else could he do? As they were not living in a state of wild nature it was not necessary for him to hunt food for them.
If he asked Happy to take a walk, she would give him her usual little caress on the nose and trot beside him as far as the gate perhaps, then suddenly turn as if she had forgotten something, drop her body after a way she had when she put on speed, and dash back to her house as if it was the burrow of a rabbit whose fresh trail she had crossed.
Once or twice Waddles had gone into the nursery kennel and sniffed at the pups in an inquisitive sort of way, but Happy immediately nosed herself between them and their father, as much as to say, “Please be careful, men are so awkward,” when he quickly retired under the cellar door, to his watch tower on the porch corner, or to his bachelor kennel, the third and smallest house of the group. This he had always used as a retreat from sun and rain, or when he was too muddy from hunting to make him welcome in the house, only being chained there as a punishment or in emergencies.
When Jack and Jill were three weeks old, and might fairly be said to be on their legs, they were as pretty a pair of beagles as one could wish to see. Equally mated in size, build, and general colouring, Jack, however, having the longer ears and rich brown head markings; yet in temper and general behaviour they were as different from one another as any two dogs could be.
Jack was affectionate and sedate, with a patient expression in his steel-blue eyes that one day would, doubtless, be deep brown like his father’s. Jill was impetuous, which often passes for affection, capricious as April sunshine, with an expression of pretty impertinence upon her face. She had dark lashes and a rim of dark brown around the edges of her eyelids which gave her a look of mingled wisdom, slyness, and determination to have her own way, that was at first captivating.
Happy was a model mother, and as soon as the pups had their breakfast she gave each a bath from head to foot, or rather tail tip, with much effort and many grunts.
These were the first puppies that Anne had ever been with so intimately that she could watch their growth from day to day, and it seemed as if she did little else but watch them when she was out of school; in addition she had all that she could manage in keeping Tommy from carrying them about, to the destruction of their digestions and the straining of their backs.
All Anne’s persuasion, however, did not have as much effect as the peremptory bark and nip in the ankle that Happy administered one morning, when she surprised Tommy in waking the twins from their nap that he might take them to ride in his wheelbarrow, for Happy, usually so meek, was at that time a despot whom no one on the premises thought of disobeying, with the exception of her daughter.