‘Come here, pup,’ calls Lewis to him, the moment they were seated.
“Sagitta backed away two steps, bristling up, and growling a bit.
“‘Come here, you brute!’ ordered Lewis hotly, rising.
“Sagitta crouched a little, drew his lips away from his fangs, and pitched his growl ‘way down in his throat.
“‘Look out! That dog means mischief,’ cried my Major.
“‘Are the animals possessed?’ roared Lewis, his voice as angry as Sagitta’s snarl, yet stepping backwards, for it looked as if the dog were about to spring.
“But my Major didn’t retreat—not he! He sprang between the wolf-hound and Miss Fairley. ‘Down, sir!’ he ordered sharply; and Sagitta dropped his lips and his bristles, and came right up to him, wagging his tail, and trying to lick his hand.
“‘Isn’t it extraordinary?’ cried Miss Fairley, with a crease in her forehead. ‘Here, Sagitta!’
“‘Miss Fairley, be careful!’ pleaded my Major; but there wasn’t the slightest necessity. Sagitta was by her side like a flash, and was telling her how he loved her, in every way that dog could. And there he stayed till Lewis came forward, when he backed away again, snarling.
“Now, in all their Washington intercourse my Major had been the surly one; but in the interval he had evidently had time to realise his mistake, and to see that he must correct it. Probably, too, he wasn’t depressed by what had just taken place. Anyway, that afternoon he was as pleasant and jolly as he knew how to be. But Mr. Lewis! Well, I acknowledge he’d had enough to make any man mad, and that was what he was. Cross, sulky, blurting out disagreeable things in a disagreeable voice, with a disagreeable face: he did make an exhibition of himself, so Sagitta said.