I--"
"Suppose we send Lad to the boarding kennels, at Ridgewood, till
the brat is gone? " suggested the Master. "I hate to do it. And
the good old chap will be blue with homesickness there. But at
least he'll get kind treatment. When he comes over to me and
looks up into my eyes in that terribly appealing way, after Cyril
has done some rotten thing to him,--well, I feel like a cur, not
to be able to justify his faith that I can make things all right
for him. Yes, I think I'll send him to the boarding kennels. And,
if it weren't for leaving you alone to face things here, I'd be
tempted to hire a stall at the kennels for myself, till the pest
is gone."
The next day, came a ray of light in the bothered gloom. And the
question of the boarding kennels was dropped. The Mistress
received a letter from Cyril's mother. The European trip had been
cut short, for business reasons; and the two travelers expected
to land in New York on the following Friday.
"Who dares say Friday is an unlucky day?" chortled the Master in
glee, as his wife reached this stage of the letter.
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