Under such urgence, the light suitcase
swung high in air. A sideways toss of the muscular throat, and
the suitcase whirled clear of the car door and of the
running-board beneath. Then Lad let go; and settled himself back
smugly in the seat. The luckless suitcase smote the road dust and
rolled into a grassy ditch. The car sped on. Lad, for the moment,
was nearly happy. If he were not able to dodge the show itself,
at least he had gotten rid of the odious thing which held so much
he detested and which was always an inseparable part of the
ordeals he was taken to.
Arrived at the country club whose grounds had been fitted for the
charity show, Lad was benched in the shade. And there, all the
rest of the morning, he remained. For Loder, judge of the collies
and Old English Sheepdogs and of two other breeds, had missed a
train from Canada; and had not yet arrived. His various classes
were held up, pending his advent.
"Loder's a lucky man, at that," commented the Toy Breeds judge,
with whom the Master chanced to be talking. "And he'll be still
luckier if he misses the whole show.
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