“Do I?” Carolyn May returned, drawing nearer. “I’m glad I do. And I’m glad I sleep in what used to be her bed, too. It doesn’t seem so lonesome.”
“So? I reckoned you’d be lonesome up there at The Corners,” said the carpenter. “Is that your dog?”
“He’s Prince—yes, sir,” Carolyn May said, looking at the panting mongrel proudly. “He’s a splendid dog. I know he must be valuable, even if he is a mongorel. He got his paw hurt once, and papa and I took him to a vetrernary.
“A vetrernary,” explained Carolyn May, “is a dog doctor. And I heard this one tell my papa that there must be blood of ’most all kinds of dogs there was in Prince’s veins. There aren’t many dogs like him.”
“No, I reckon not. Not many have such a pedigree,” admitted the carpenter, taking up his plane. Then he squinted curiously across it at Carolyn May. “I guess your papa was some different from Joe Stagg, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, yes; he didn’t look much like Uncle Joe. You see, they aren’t really related,” explained Carolyn May innocently.
Mr. Parlow grunted and stripped another shaving from the edge of the board he was planing. Carolyn May’s eager eyes followed that curling ribbon, and her lips parted. There were just bushels of shavings lying all about the shop—and Uncle Joe said Mr. Parlow would not give away a single one!
The carpenter paused before pushing the plane a second time the length of the board. “Don’t you want a drink of water, little girl?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, sir—I would. And I know Prince would like a drink,” she told him quickly.
“Go right around to the well in the back yard,” said Mr. Parlow. “You’ll find a glass there—and Mandy keeps a pan on the well-curb for the dogs and cats.”