On reaching the cottage, he carried the dog to a corner of the garden, while he went in for a spade to dig its grave. While he was searching for one in the outhouse, his mother saw him.
“What has happened, Dick?” she exclaimed, observing the blood on his clothes.
He at once narrated what had occurred, for although he had many faults, he was truthful to her.
“I am very sorry for what has happened. Poor dear Janet will almost break her heart. She said that she should like to take a stroll to-morrow with Faithful, if you were not able to accompany her. However, we must bear with it. From what you say, the young lord would not have shot the dog if he had known whose it was, and if he gives Janet another, she may become as fond of it as she was of Faithful.”
“I should not like her to become fond of Lord Reginald’s dog,” answered Dick. “If he sends one, I shall have a mind to shoot it, or send it back to him with a kettle tied to its tail.”
“That would not be a right thing to do,” observed Mrs Hargrave. “We should not harbour ill feelings towards others, though they have done us wrong. Come in now, and let me wash the blood off your coat. It looks bad, and if your father were to return, it would frighten him, as it did me. We’ll just break the news gently to Janet, and don’t say you won’t receive another dog if the young lord sends one. Remember how kind his mother and sisters are, and I dare say he is not so bad at heart, though he has more than once fallen out with you.”
“He has an abusive tongue in his head, and that shows what sort of heart he has got,” answered Dick, not inclined to agree with his mother about Lord Reginald. “You tell me the ladies speak so sweetly, but, as Ben Rudall says, that’s all outside show, and I would not trust them.”
“That’s because you have never been at home when they have called, or you would have agreed with me, if you had,” observed Mrs Hargrave. “Stay here while I get a sponge and some hot water; I can’t let you go about as you are; I cannot tell what people would say. If you were seen, there would be all sorts of tales about you.”
“I don’t care what is said, and I should just like them to know that Lord Reginald is a brute. That’s what I call him.”
“Hush! hush, Dick!” said his mother. “Sit you down here, until I have taken off those blood stains, for although poor Janet cannot see them, some one else may come in, and ask what has happened.”