Wrong, wrong, and I said nothing.
“The settlement house, or the day nursery?”
No, no, poor master—why could he not guess. He mentioned ever so many places down town that we had visited together, and he was so slow at getting to the right spot, that I, in despair, lay down on the floor, put my nose between my paws, and pretended to go to sleep.
“He finds you very stupid, my poor Rudolph,” said mistress slyly. She loves to tease him occasionally, and she was following his questions and my answers with intense interest.
“Let me make a suggestion,” she said at last. “There is one place you never used to visit, but that you go to quite frequently now—Is it the Blue-Bird Laundry, Boy?”
I barked, I screamed with excitement, I ran to her, and licked her slippers and her hands. Oh! the clever woman.
“By Jupiter,” said master again, “this looks like magic. Now, let us find the woman. Is it Perky Moll, Boy?”
The matron in the laundry is a lady who is the widow of a former friend of the Grantons. She is full of fun, and has nick-names for the girls which she uses sometimes with master, but which the girls themselves never hear.
Well, it wasn’t Perky Moll, and my excitement passed away, and I looked cast down.