And, in course of time, it is prone to reach its
climax of excellence in summer. This was the lot of both Lad and
the paler-hued dog.
"Lochaber King," read the Master, from his catalog. "H'm! That's
Colonel Osbourne's greatest pup. Remember, we saw him at
Westminster? It's nip-and-tuck, between him and Lad; with a
little in this dog's favor. Tough luck!"
"Oh, this has been just one of those days nobody wants!" mourned
the Mistress. "First, our forgetting to bring along Laddie's
suitcase, though I could have sworn I saw you lift it
aboard,--and then the judge not being here; and now this horrid
collie with his wonderful coat! What next, I wonder?"
Like a well-staged bit of mechanism, the reply to her rhetorical
question came down to her from heaven. It came in the shape of a
thunder-roll that began far off and reverberated from mountain to
mountain; then muttered itself into silence in the more distant
hills. The Mistress, like everyone else, looked skyward.
The hazy blue of the summer noon was paling to dirty gray and
black. Up from the Hudson, a fast-mounting array of dun and
flame-shot clouds were butting their bullying way.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112