The troubles of the young are soon over; they leave no external mark. If you wound the tree in its youth the bark will quickly cover the gash; but when the tree is very old, peeling the bark off, and looking carefully, you will see the scar there still. All that is buried is not dead.
Waldo poured the warm milk over the little swollen foot; Doss lay very quiet, with tears in his eyes. Then there was a tap at the door. In an instant Doss looked wide awake, and winked the tears out from between his little lids.
“Come in,” said Waldo, intent on his work; and slowly and cautiously the door opened.
“Good evening, Waldo, my boy,” said Bonaparte Blenkins in a mild voice, not venturing more than his nose within the door. “How are you this evening?”
Doss growled and showed his little teeth, and tried to rise, but his paw hurt him so he whined.
“I’m very tired, Waldo, my boy,” said Bonaparte plaintively.
Doss showed his little white teeth again. His master went on with his work without looking round. There are some people at whose hands it is best not to look. At last he said:
“Come in.”
Bonaparte stepped cautiously a little way into the room, and left the door open behind him. He looked at the boy’s supper on the table.
“Waldo, I’ve had nothing to eat all day—I’m very hungry,” he said.