Master had gone quite daffy on the subject of babies. Dating from the day that he had heard of the arrival of the baby, he stared at every child he met in the street. He gave pennies to poor children, and watched them with delight when they ran to a candy shop. He stopped the perambulators of rich babies, and begged permission of the nurses to look at them. All babies were dear to him, because he had one of his own.
To come back to this night, I slept for a while, then I woke up with a feeling of great distress. Some one was in trouble near me. I could hear nothing, smell nothing, but I knew it was so, and I sprang uneasily from the big chair where I slept, and went to my master’s bed.
CHAPTER XIV
HIS MOTHER’S BOY
He was sleeping like a boy. I hated to disturb him, and I ran to the door leading to the hall, and smelt hard under it. Nothing there—I went back to bed, but my uneasiness increased so terribly, that, at last, if I had not aroused my master, I should have burst into terrible howling which would have disturbed the household and waked the baby.
I pulled hard at the sleeve of his pajamas. “Master, master, wake up.”
He turned on me eyes unseeing at first, then intelligent. “What’s the matter, Boy-Dog—burglars?”
I didn’t know what was the matter, so I pulled hard to show he was to come and investigate.
He rolled quickly out of bed, snatched his bath-robe and followed me. He knew that I would not rouse him for a trifle.