'You manage my dinners so nicely for me,' said Mr Broughton in answer to some suggestion of his landlady, 'that I think I cannot do better than leave all arrangements to you. But do sit down; I want to thank you for taking care of my dog last night. I hope he was not troublesome to you?'
'Not in the least,' returned Mrs Gray: 'when once he ascertained that you really were not in the house, he settled down quietly, and played with the children till they went to bed.'
'I am so glad your children are not afraid of him,' observed Mr Broughton.
'Oh, they are too well used to a dog and to pets in general to be afraid of a gentle creature like your Dandy. In fact my difficulty is keeping them out of your rooms. Ally—you remember how Dandy took to her from the very first—Ally wanted to come in and see the dog just now. I daresay she is near the door still.'
'Oh, pray let her in,' said Mr Broughton, himself rising to open the door. 'I will not be jealous because it is my dog she wants to see—not me;' and there was a little laugh at the idea of Dandy being such a favourite.
When the room-door opened, sure enough little Ally was found waiting, but not alone; her brother, a curly-headed urchin two years her junior, had hold of her hand; and both were evidently in expectation of being allowed some little frolic with the dog.
'Come in, my dears—come in,' exclaimed Mr Broughton; 'Dandy will be most happy to see you, and will shew you some of his accomplishments, if you like.'
Though a little shy at first with the 'strange gentleman,' whom they had been taught in a vague sort of way to reverence, and for whose comfort they were told to refrain from noise, the shyness soon wore off, when they found that Dandy's master was as willing to be their playmate as Dandy himself. For their delectation the dog went through his most admired tricks: he jumped over a stick, he allowed of mimic shooting and acted the dead dog, he begged for a piece of bread, but could not be induced to eat it till assured it was paid for. Moreover, he howled a note in unison with one his master played on the violin; but probably without meaning to imply admiration of the latter performance.
A less keen observer than a fond and widowed mother was likely to be, might, if contemplating this little scene, have felt pretty sure that fond as Richard Broughton was of his dog, it had not exhausted all his capacity of loving. By people who have never had their hearts thrill to the mystery of canine attachment he had often been ridiculed for the intensity of his affection for Dandy, and when he spoke of a 'dog's love' as being the only ideal of his life that had ever been fully realised, few persons understood him. But Mrs Gray saw at a glance that he had a natural love for children, and probably for all helpless creatures, and considering all the circumstances of her household, she thought herself most fortunate in her lodger.
It is astonishing how soon pleasant habits may be formed. Before the next week had passed it became quite the custom of the children to come into Mr Broughton's rooms at least once a day, ostensibly to play with Dandy; but also they brought their toys to shew to Dandy's master, and chattered away, as bright, eager, fresh-hearted children are pretty sure to do with those whom, by some subtle instinct, they at once recognise as friends. Dandy's canine predecessor in the house, the much lamented Topsy, was a frequent subject of conversation. Her accomplishments were described, though admitted to be fewer than Dandy's, and her death and burial dwelt on with some pathos. And one day little Ally came into the room hugging a thick photographic album in her arms. She had brought it for the express purpose of shewing poor Topsy's likeness.