Both had probably spent the last hour in front of his house, and Bethany was only a few steps away. Suppose she had gone to the window; and retracing his steps the Judge went into his study and sitting down began to think over the visit he had just had.
The tablecloth waving violently attracted his attention. “Hello, little girl,” he said, affectionately, “come out. Daddy Grandpa is alone.”
There was no response beyond a continuance of low growling.
The Judge had made a mistake. It was not Bethany under the table; it was Bylow.
“Good dog,” he said, “come here.”
She immediately crawled out on all fours, snapping and snarling at every object she passed, and accompanied by Sukey, who also was in a bad temper and pecked at everything near her.
On Bethany’s way to the Judge she suddenly caught sight of a piece of wrapping paper that had come round a book and had fallen to the floor. Seizing it in her hands, she tore it to pieces. The Judge thought that her small teeth also aided in the work of destruction. Not till the paper was in ribbons, and she herself was damp with perspiration from the violence of her emotion, did she give up her dog incarnation and become demure little Bethany again.
The Judge stared. He had never seen her in a rage before. However, she was quite self-possessed now, and putting the grumbling pigeon in her basket and seating herself beside her she began softly to stroke and smooth her disturbed feathered friend.
After a time she addressed a gentle remark to the Judge over her shoulder. “So you have had ‘Airy Mary, so contrary,’ here this evening?”
“Yes, I have,” he returned. “Why did you not stay out and see her; don’t you like her?”