"See, Mrs. Townsend," he exclaimed; "there's not a particle of blood about his mouth. Besides, you all know Spice—our Spice. Why, he—"
"But how, then, came Baby in this condition? You can see for yourself there wasn't a thing within his reach by which he could have cut himself."
"Perhaps he bit his finger," Harry then ventured to suggest, which idea was greeted by as near an approach to a smile as the tragic nature of the circumstances would permit, as Mrs. Farr reminded her son of the fact that the child was scarcely four months old.
"No, I see no help for it, sorry as I am, and good friend to Spice as I've always been," continued Mrs. Townsend; "but hydrophobia, you know, is now so bad, and my nerves are still so weak, that really Win must bring over his gun and—"
"Shoot Spice?" cried both the Farr children in a breath, while their mother hastened to put forth every possible plea in his behalf.
But the harder Mrs. Farr begged for mercy to the dog, the more determined did Mrs. Townsend become that he ought to die; and between the firm, vehement demands of one family and the tearful, urgent pleadings of the other, the noise in the room became so loud and confused that Baby began to cry, and Spice to bark.
In vain Harry quoted newspaper paragraphs to the effect that Scotch terriers were seldom or never known to go mad; useless were Edith's affirmations that she was sure Spice had not so much as sniffed at the baby; and all for naught went Mrs. Farr's entreaties that they would at least stay proceedings until the gentlemen came home at night. Mrs. Townsend was resolved, and Win went over the hedge in triumph to bring his gun, but presently came back, rather crest-fallen and empty-handed, to say that his father must have locked it up in the wardrobe, and carried off the key.
In that case there was nothing to do but wait until that gentleman returned from the city; so the Townsends filed out of the Farrs' front door and into their own in a dignified procession, Mrs. Townsend having first bound over Mrs. Farr by a solemn promise not to allow Spice to leave the grounds.
Ah, how long that dreadful afternoon lived in the Farr children's memory! To know that their own dear little doggie was to die would have been bad enough, but to feel that he was to be shot as a criminal for an act so terrible, that—that was too hard, and Edith's tears fell fast, while even Harry was obliged to wink persistently in order to keep his own cheeks dry.