I took the kitchen on my way and begged a generous slice of
meat from the cook to carry to Tiger.
"Most like they'll have their own dinner off it first; they'll think
it a sin to give such meat to a dog," I heard her mutter as I left the
kitchen. On my way I met Emily Fleming and Belle Wallace. They laughingly
inquired where I was going with my bundles; but I assured them it was an
errand of mercy, and could not therefore be explained. Miss Emily's plump
features and bright black eyes took a slightly contemptuous expression as
she assured us I was rapidly developing into a Sister of Charity.
"Better be that than an idler altogether like the rest of us," the more
gentle natured Belle responded.
"If you are getting into a controversy I will continue my journey," I
said, nodding them a pleasant good morning and going cheerfully on my
way, thinking of Tiger's prospective gratification, coupled with that of
the widow Larkums.
Going first to the Blakes, I found Tiger stretched out on the doorstep.
He wagged his tail appreciatively, but did not growl as I stroked his
shaggy coat.
Examining him by daylight, I saw that he was a fine specimen of his
species. Daniel explained to me afterward that he was a cross between a
St. Bernard and Newfoundland--a royal ancestry, truly, for any canine,
and unlike human off-shoots from the best genealogical trees, quite sure
of inheriting the finest qualities of his ancestors. I went into the
house, the dog limping after me.
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