"But why?" went on the pup. "It is not fair. There is no sense in it. I have been in the house some days, and no one turned me out; so why should they now?"
"Those were fine, sunny days," said the old dog.
"Well, it is on the wet days that I most want to be in the house," said the pup. "And I don't see why I should stay out. So here I go."
And so he did; but he soon found, that, though no one stopped to tell him "why" he must not come in, it was quite true that he might not. The first who saw him was the cook, who had a broom in her hand.
"That vile pup!" cried she. "Look at his feet!"
"What is wrong with my feet?" barked the pup.
But she did not wait to tell him. She struck him with the broom; and he fled with a howl up the stairs.
"Oh, that pup!" cried the maid, as she saw the marks of his feet. "He ought not to come into the house at all, if he will not keep out on wet days."
"But why?" yelped the pup, as the maid threw a hearth-brush at his head.
Still no one told him why. But a man just then came up stairs. "Why, what a mess!" he said. "Oh, I see! It is that pup. I thought he knew he must not come in!"