He
began to feel lively and rolled the more; in every way he
convinced Penrod that dogs have no regard for appearances. Also,
having discovered an ex-fish near the Herman and Verman cottage,
Duke confirmed an impression of Penrod's that dogs have a
peculiar fancy in the matter of odours that they like to wear.
Growing livelier and livelier, Duke now wished to play with his
master. Penrod was anything but fastidious; nevertheless, under
the circumstances, he withdrew to the kitchen, leaving Duke to
play by himself, outside.
Della, the cook, was comfortably making rolls and entertaining a
caller with a cup of tea. Penrod lingered a few moments, but
found even his attention to the conversation ill received, while
his attempts to take part in it met outright rebuff. His feelings
were hurt; he passed broodingly to the front part of the house,
and flung himself wearily into an armchair in the library. With
glazed eyes he stared at shelves of books that meant to him just
what the wallpaper meant, and he sighed from the abyss. His legs
tossed and his arms flopped; he got up, scratched himself
exhaustively, and shuffled to a window.
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