"Truly I might, sweetheart," said Judith, cheerfully, "but that my grandmother likes him not in the garden; his ways are overrough."
"Now that reminds me," said he, quickly (but always addressing Prudence), "of the little spaniel-gentle that I have. Do you know the dog, Prudence? 'Tis accounted a great beauty, and of the true Maltese breed. Will you accept him from me? In truth I will hold it a favor if you will take the little creature."
"I?" said Prudence, with much amazement; for she had somehow vaguely heard that the dog had been purchased and brought to Stratford for the very purpose of being presented to Judith.
"I assure you 'tis just such an one as would make a pleasant companion for you," said he; "a gentle creature as ever was, and affectionate too—a most pleasant and frolicsome playfellow. Will you take it, Prudence? for what can I do with the little beast? I have no one to look after it."
"I had thought you meant Judith to have the spaniel," said she, simply.
"Nay, how would that do, sweetheart?" said Judith, calmly. "Do you think the Don would brook such invasion of his domain? Would you have the little thing killed? You should take it, good cousin; 'twill be company for you should you be alone in the house."
She had spoken quite as if she had been engaged in the conversation all the way through; there was no appearance of anger or resentment at his ostentatious ignoring of her presence: whatever she felt she was too proud to show.
"Then you will take the dog, Prudence," said he. "I know I could not give it into gentler hands, for you could not but show it kindness, as you show to all."
"Give ye good thanks," said Prudence, with her pale face flushing with renewed embarrassment, "for the offer of the gift; but in truth I doubt if it be right and seemly to waste such care on a dumb animal when there be so many of our fellow-creatures that have more pressing claims on us. And there are enough of temptations to idleness without our wilfully adding to them. But I thank you for the intention of your kindness—indeed I do."
"Nay, now, you shall have it, good Prudence, whether you will or no," said he with a laugh. "You shall bear with the little dog but for a week, that I beg of you; and then if it please you not, if you find no amusement in its tricks and antics, I will take it back again. 'Tis a bargain; but as to your sending of it back, I have no fears; I warrant you 'twill overcome your scruples, for 'tis a most cunning and crafty playfellow, and merry withal; nor will it hinder you from being as kind and helpful to those around you as you have ever been. I envy the dog that is to have so gentle a guardian."