“The dog!” he said.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “The dog—”
“The gate swings shut with a spring!” he said. “Some human being must have opened the gate.”
It was true! We looked at each other, and then the Judge laughed.
“Oh, well,” said he carelessly, “if they want the dog they must come and claim him with proceedings at law. Make a bed for him in the back hall.”
On my part, however, I was not satisfied so easily and many more peaceful moments I would have had if I had never pried further as I did. After all, I only asked one question and that early the next morning. In the house next to ours a brick ell was built way out to the alleyway along half the yard. The kitchen windows looked out on the passage. There was a maid in that house,—a second girl, as they call them in this country,—and I knew she was a great person for staying up late, telling her own fortune with cards or reading a dream-book. She was hanging clothes in the early sun, with her red hair bobbing up and down above the sheets and napkins, when I stood on a chair and looked over the wall.
“Busy early?” I said. “But I saw your light late last night. Did you by any chance see anybody come in through our gate?”
“Only you,” the stupid thing said. “At first I thought it was some other woman, because, begging your pardon, you looked thin. But it was after nine and I knew you’d not be having callers that late.”
My tongue grew so dry it was hard to move it from the roof of my mouth, and before I could put in a word she threw a handful of clothespins into the basket and looked up again.
“When did you get a dog?” she asked. “I saw you had one with you.”