It was
to be a day of triumph for the Sunnybank Kennels. Yet, somehow,
it was to be a day to which the Mistress and the Master never
enjoyed looking back.
Into the car the three dogs were put. The Mistress and the Master
and the Place's superintended got aboard, and the trip to
Hawthorne began.
Laddie had come out from his cave to see the show-goers off. The
Mistress, looking back, had a last glimpse of him, standing in
the front doorway; staring wistfully after the car. She waved her
hand to him in farewell. Lad wagged his plumed tail, once, in
reply, to the salute. Then, heavily, he turned back again into
the house.
"Dear old Laddie!" sighed the Mistress. "He used to hate to go to
shows. And now he hates being left behind. It seems so cruel to
leave him. And yet--"
"Oh the maids will take good care of him!" consoled the Master.
"They spoil him, whenever they get a chance. And we'll be back
before five o'clock. We can't be forever looking out for his
crotchety feelings."
"We won't be 'forever' doing that," prophesied the Mistress,
unhappily.
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