CHAPTER XVI
TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE THE COUNTRY
Mistress laid down her work—she was always making things for the baby now—and gave a little shriek—“Rudolph, look here, what is this?”
“A dog on its last legs apparently,” he said, then he gave me a shrewd look. “Something Boy has brought in.”
“There’s blood on it and mud,” cried poor mistress, shrinking away. “Take it, Rudolph. Ring for Annie. Why, it’s been abused.”
Why, mistress was progressing. She actually could make out something from a dog’s appearance.
However, it was one thing for her to tell her husband to take it, and another thing for Amarilla to allow him to take it. She yelled with fright, whenever he came near her, and clung to Mrs. Granton.
“Some man has whipped that dog,” he said angrily. “The brute! Poor doggie; I would not hurt you for a kingdom.”
Protestations didn’t count with Amarilla. She didn’t like men, and Mrs. Granton half flattered, half annoyed, at last retired with her to the kitchen.
When she came back, a half hour later, Amarilla had been washed and brushed, and was wrapped snugly in one of Master Baby’s white blankets.