Edith went off to find something, and as she prepared a dainty meal for the boy, she thought to herself that he set her a good example. She knew what pride he had taken in Bob's appearance, and she knew how angry he had been at first. It must have been a hard battle for him.
And it was. Edith was far from realizing what a temper Neal had. He had felt that morning that his only safety lay in flight, and he had tramped many miles through the woods in the endeavor to overcome his anger.
After luncheon he took the scissors and set to work upon Bob's other side. He could not repress a groan of dismay once or twice.
"If they had only done it decently!" he said. "In some places it looks as if it had been torn out by the roots, they've cropped it so close, and here again are these long pieces. Well, well, Bobby, my boy, I fancy we were too vain of our appearance. Here goes!"
In a short time Bob had the appearance of a closely shaven French poodle.
Edith watched the process for a few minutes, but presently went to her room.
"I shall be held accountable for this too, I suppose," she said to herself. "Oh, why did those Gordons ever come?"