Here, on a sweet-smelling
(and flea-averting) bed of cedar shavings, she had been
comfortable and wholly satisfied. But, at once, on her promotion,
she appeared to look upon the once-homelike tool-house as a newly
rich daylaborer might regard the tumbledown shack where he had
spent the days of his poverty.
She avoided the tool-house; and even made wide detours to avoid
passing close to it. There is no more thoroughgoing snob, in
certain ways, than a high-bred dog. And, to Lady, the tool-house
evidently represented a humiliating phase of her outlived past.
Yet, she was foredoomed to go back to the loathed abode. And her
return befell in this way:
In the Master's study was something which Lady considered the
most enthrallingly wonderful object on earth. This was a stuffed
American eagle; mounted, rampant and with outflung wings, on a
papier-mache stump.
Why the eagle should have fascinated Lady more than did the
leopard-or-bear rugs or other chase-trophies, in the various
downstairs rooms, only Lady herself could have told. But she
could not keep her eyes off of it.
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