But she didn’t go, after all, for which Freya and I were sorry. And even though we stayed around the house a lot in the hope that she would come out so we could run at her and jump on her, she didn’t once set her foot off the piazza, and all we could do was get close to the screen and growl at her. The Mistress said: “It’s too bad you don’t like dogs, Miss Mumford, they’re such company for one, and living alone as you do a dog would be a great comfort to you. Just see the little dears begging to be let in. Wasn’t it funny how they took to you at once the day you came? They seem quite fond of you.”
And the Mistress glanced at me and then smiled at the thing she was sewing on. And Freya and I looked at each other and laughed. And the Old Lady Who Didn’t Like Dogs said “Humph!” Just like that.
CHAPTER IX
THE LITTLE BOY FROM THE CITY
More company came after that. It was in the Fall, when the leaves were turning to beautiful colours and falling off the trees and when the mornings and nights were quite cool and the best place to take a nap was in the stable doorway where the sun shone warmly on the floor. Freya and I were about six months old then and were getting to be pretty big for puppies. We weren’t as big as Father or Mother, but when we romped with either of them Freya and I together could do just about as we pleased with them. Lots of times Mother used to run away from us because we were so strong that we could roll her over on her back and bite her and shake her until she yelped.
Others had grown up, too. All the fluffy little yellow chicks that Freya and I used to watch through the chicken yard wires were quite big, almost as big as their parents. And all the little ducklings had grown up into ducks and could say “Quack!” just like their mothers and fathers. In the garden the flowers had gone, all but a few, and it was a great relief to me. I was always very fond of flowers and liked to pick them and eat them, but William didn’t like me to and would get after me whenever he caught me at it. I got a lot of cuffings on account of my love for flowers. I couldn’t understand why it was they were so selfish with them when they had so many. It seemed to me that one or two more or less would not have made any difference. But Two-Legged Folks are peculiar in many ways. They aren’t nearly so sensible as dogs.
Even the Baby was getting bigger and older. She could talk quite nicely by Fall, although you had to listen very closely to understand all she said. You see, she talked very quickly and ran her words together. It was the Baby who told me about the company coming. It was one morning on the piazza. The screens had been taken off then and the Baby and I were in the hammock together. Freya didn’t like the hammock. She said it made her feel funny inside when it swung. I did, though. It was full of nice soft cushions and I was very proud when I found one day that I could jump up on it all by myself and didn’t have to be lifted up or pulled up any more. Well, the Baby and I were there together, swinging, and she was pulling my ears the way she liked to do, and chatting all the time. I wasn’t paying very much attention to what she was saying because I was a little bit sleepy. It always makes me sleepy to have my ears pulled. Well, pretty soon the Baby said:
“Booful little boy’s coming to play wiv Mild’ed. All way f’om City. Coming to-day, I dess.”
I pricked up my ears then. At least, I pricked up one of them, the one that wasn’t being pulled. I had never seen a little boy very near, but I had heard Mother speak of them and from what she had said I didn’t think I should like them. So I didn’t look very pleased at what the Baby said. Perhaps she saw it, for she went on: