The composition of a suitable note to accompany the flowers was a task requiring much time and mental effort.
Finally, in sheer desperation, Mr. Maclin wrote on one of his cards, “To replace the flowers the dog has dug up,” and dropped it among the scarlet blossoms.
He had hesitated between “the dog” and “your dog,” but had decided against the latter, being fearful that it might, perhaps, be construed as conveying a subtle hint of reproach. Mr. Maclin’s lawn also was defaced by many unsightly holes.
Miss Clementina wondered a little that the article “the” should have replaced the possessive pronoun “my.” But on reflection she decided that one might not unreasonably object to confessing in so many words to the possession of a dog who so persistently did all the things he ought not to do. And, anyway, it was nice of Mr. Maclin to have sent the flowers.
Miss Clementina wrote a charming note of thanks, and earnestly assured Mr. Maclin that she didn’t object in the least to the little dog’s digging up her lawn.
Mr. Maclin smiled at the naïveté of the little note, and tucked it carefully away in his pocketbook.
Thereafter the two bowed soberly when they chanced to meet, and occasionally exchanged a casual remark concerning the weather.
And once, when Miss Clementina was picking the dead leaves from what was left of the geranium plants, Mr. Maclin paused to remark that the little brown dog seemed very fond of her.
“And of you, too,” Miss Clementina had quickly returned. It couldn’t be pleasant, she thought, for Mr. Maclin to feel that his pet had deserted him for a stranger.
“It’s the dog biscuits I give him,” Mr. Maclin explained, confidentially.