"Runs through the French windows into Dad's room," said Cassowary. "Dad always sleeps with one hand hanging out of bed. Drunkard bumps into it. Dad has a chain and snap fastened to his bed leg. He only half wakes, fastens the snap to Drunkard's collar, then goes to sleep again. Drunkard sleeps, too, and after breakfast Dad brings him out here to spend the weary livelong day or else puts him near the kitchen door for Bingi, who loves him."
"Well! I never heard of a dog like that," said Dallas.
"Lots of 'em up here," said Cassowary, "and in many places they're kept pretty well chained up except in the hunting season. That makes Dad furious. He hates to have Drunkard chained even for part of the time. He's just meditating some way to cure him. Come on, old boy, with all thy faults I love thee still."
"Is that for me or the dog?" asked Dallas comically.
"Dog," said Cassowary quite seriously.
"Where are you going now?" asked Dallas as he suppressed a yawn.
"The round of the cow stable to say good night to the Holsteins," and she actually went and patted each serious-eyed creature in their comfortable stalls.
I found her a very amusing girl and very active and boyish with her short skirts and long legs, but not tomboyish. There was quite a difference between her age and her young sisters', so I fancied that Cassowary was much with her brothers.
"Do you want to see Daddy Single-Comb and his family?" she asked suddenly.
"I do just," said my young master, "though I don't know who Daddy Single-Comb is."