Lad was between the irate
Cyril and the Mistress. In babyish rage at the dog's placid
presence in his path, he drew back one ungainly foot and kicked
the astonished collie in the ribs.
At the outrage, Lad spun about, a growl in his throat. But he
forbore to bite or even to show his teeth. The growl had been of
indignant protest at such unheard-of treatment; not a menace.
Then the dog stalked haughtily to his cave, and lay down there.
But the human witnesses to the scene were less forbearing;--being
only humans. The Mistress cried out, in sharp protest at the
little brute's action. And the Master leaned forward, swinging
Cyril clear of the ground. Holding the child firmly, but with no
roughness, the Master steadied his own voice as best he could;
and said:--
"This time you've not even bothered to wait till our backs were
turned. So don't waste breath by crying and saying you didn't do
it. You're not my child; so I have no right to punish you. And
I'm not going to. But I want you to know you've just kicked
something that's worth fifty of you."
"You let me down!" Cyril snarled.
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