Dallas, not as wary as the Judge, went nearer, and was saluted by a snap from the dog’s powerful jaws that made him jump in the air.
“O, Bylow, Bylow!” cried Bethany, in dismay, and to the Judge’s great disapprobation she threw her arms round the snapping dog. “My precious dog, you must not be so bad.”
The dog put out a long red tongue and lapped her forehead.
“Bethany,” said the Judge, “come here.”
“O, Daddy Grandpa!” she exclaimed, fairly throwing herself at him. “Bethany is ’most dead with joy, and I knew you’d be dead, too.”
In face of so much enthusiasm and such perfect trust in his hearty coöperation, the Judge felt that it would be very hard to disappoint the child, but he was firm on the subject of vicious animals.
“In the middle of the hall stood the grinning colored boy and the ugly yellow spotted dog.”
“Boy,” he said to the grinning Brick, “what is the matter with that dog?”
“Your cloes, sah—turn your coat, sah, jes’ for fun—you’ll not see no teeth, sah. He’ll jus’ love you. Look-y-here—” and he pointed to a most disreputable-looking figure descending the staircase from the floor above.