. . . We're going over for the mail,--the
Mistress and I. Want to come along?"
At once the melancholy in Lad's deep eyes gave place to
puppy-like exultance.
While, naturally, he did not understand one word in ten of the
Master's frequent prosy homilies to him, or of the Mistress's
more melodious speech, yet, from puppyhood, he had been talked to
by both of them. And, as ever with a highbred collie, such
constant conversation had borne ample fruit;--not only in giving
the dog a startling comprehension of voice-meanings, but also in
teaching him to understand many simple words and phrases.
For example, he recognized, as readily as would any five-year-old
child, this invitation to go motoring. And it banished the memory
of Lady's fickleness.
This morning, for the first time since his accident, Lad was able
to spring into the car-tonneau, unaided. His hurt was all-but
well. Enthroning himself in the precise center of the rear seat,
he prepared to enjoy every inch of the ride.
No matter how long or how tedious were these jaunts, Lad never
went to sleep or ceased to survey with eager attention the myriad
details of the trip.
Pages:
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236