Lady was
slinking out into the hall; crestfallen and scared. The Master
collared her and brought her back to the scene of her mischief.
The collie had disobeyed him. Flagrantly she had sinned in
assailing the bird; after his injunction of "Let it alone!" There
could be no doubt, from her wriggling aspect of guilt, that she
knew she was doing wrong. Worse, she had taken sneaky advantage
of his absence in order to spring at the eagle. And disgust
warred with the Master's normal indignation.
Speaking as quietly as he could bring himself to speak, he told
Lady what she had done and what a rotten thing it had been. As he
talked to the utterly crestfallen pup, he was ransacking a drawer
of his desk in search of a dogwhip he had put there long ago and
had never had occasion to use.
Presently, he found it. Pointing to the overthrown trophy, he
brought the lash down across the shrinking collie's loins. He did
not strike hard. But he struck half a dozen times; and with glum
knowledge that it was the only course to take.
Never before in her eight foolish months of life, had Lady known
the meaning of a blow.
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