"He knits," said Cassowary to me. "Isn't he splendid! Dad is wearing some of his socks now."
The old dog began to growl again. He saw lumps of sugar coming out from among the balls of wool.
I didn't care. I ate all I wished from the kind palm of the brave young soldier man, then I made one more bow to the company and backed toward the door.
They all clapped their hands. "I didn't know he could do tricks," said Cassowary delightedly. "I'll get Dad to put him through his amusement paces."
As I went out to the veranda the old dog followed me, and as soon as we were alone I gave him a gentle nip.
"What's that for?" he asked in an ugly way.
"To teach you manners," I said. "This was my first call, and you received me in a surly way."
He drooped his head so sadly that I said, "What's the matter with you?"
"I'm getting old," he said, "and I'm afraid Mr. Talker will shoot me."