Lad crouched, panther-like; and a low
growl parted still further his writhing lips.
Higham was enough of a collie man to foresee the inevitable next
move. He stood stock still. The Master put his hand once more on
Lad's ruff; but none too tightly. And he nodded toward the
clutter of newspapers and wooden plates. Higham's language soared
spoutingly to high heaven. But he turned back and, with vicious
grabs, cleared the lawn of its unsightly litter.
"Take it into the boat with you." said the Master. "That's all.
Goodbye. See you at the Beauville show."
Waiting only for the canoe and its four vociferous occupants to
start safely from shore, the Master returned to the house; Lad at
his heels; pursued by a quadruple avalanche of abuse from the
damp trespassers.
"There'll be a comeback of some kind to this, Laddie," he told
the collie, as they moved on. "I don't know just what it'll be.
But those two worthy youths didn't look at all lovingly at us.
And there's nothing else in country life so filthily mean as an
evicted trespasser. Don't let's say anything to the Mistress
about it, Lad.
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