"I wanted you to see!" he declaimed. "I ordered everything left
as it was. That mess of papers all over the floor is what remains
of the first draft of my book. The book I have been at work on
for six months! I--"
"And it was the dog, there!" sputtered the maid-servant; emotion
riding over discipline. "I c'n swear the room was neat and all
dusted. Not a blessed thing out of place; and all the paper where
Mr. Garretse had stacked 'em in his portfolio, yonder. I dusted
this study and then the dining room. And then I went out to sweep
the veranda; like I always do, before breakfast. And maybe ten
minutes later I see this brute trot out of Mr. Harmon's place,
and along the road, and come, asnuffing up the steps and into the
house. And when I followed him upstairs and scatted him out, I
saw the room looking like it is, now; and I yells to Mr.
Garretse, and he's shaving, and--"
"That will do, Esther!" snapped the author. "And, now, sir--"
"But, Mr. Garretse," put in the Mistress, "Lad never did such a
thing as this, in all his life! He's been brought up in the
house.
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