This the Master was due to
discover.
On a sloppy and drippy and muggy afternoon, late in October,--one
of those days nobody wants,--the Master came home from town; his
fall overcoat showing a decided list to starboard in the shape of
an egregiously bulged side-pocket.
The Mistress and Lad, as ever, came forth to greet the returning
man. Lad, with the gayly trumpeting bark which always he reserved
for the Mistress or the Master after an absence of any length,
cavorted rapturously up to his deity. But, midway in his
welcoming advance, he checked himself; sniffing the sodden
October air, and seeking to locate a new and highly interesting
scent which had just assailed his sensitive nostrils.
The Master put an end to the mystery, forthwith, by reaching deep
into his overcoat's swollen pocket and fishing out a grayish
golden ball of squirming fluff.
This handful of liveliness he set gingerly on the veranda floor;
where it revealed itself as an eight-weeks old collie pup.
"Her name is 'Lady,'" expounded the Master, as he and the
Mistress gazed interestedly down upon the sprawling and wiggling
puppy.
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