Robert surveyed it coldly.
“Rotten little mongrel!” he said from the heights of superior knowledge.
“Mongrel!” said William indignantly. “There jus’ isn’t no mongrel about him. Look at him! An’ he can learn tricks easy as easy. Look at him sit up and beg. I only taught him this afternoon.”
He took a biscuit out of his pocket and held it up. Jumble rose unsteadily on to his hind legs and tumbled over backwards. He wagged his tail and grinned, intensely amused. Robert’s expression of superiority relaxed.
“Do it again,” he said. “Not so far back. Here! Give it me. Come on, come on, old chap! That’s it! Now stay there! Stay there! Good dog! Got any more? Let’s try him again.”
During the next twenty minutes they taught him to sit up and almost taught him “Trust” and “Paid for.” There was certainly a charm about Jumble. Even Robert felt it. Then Ethel’s voice came up the stairs.
“Robert! Sydney Bellew’s come for you.”
“Blow the wretched dog!” said the fickle Robert rising, red and dishevelled from stooping over Jumble. “We were going to walk to Fairfields and the beastly Police Station’s right out of our way.”
“I’ll take it, Robert,” said William kindly. “I will really.”
Robert eyed him suspiciously.