Lettice, in white, with a dark shawl drawn about
her shoulders, was standing on the porch. She
spoke in a strain of querulous sweetness:

"Gordon, you've been the longest while. Mrs.
Caley says your supper's all spoiled. You know
she likes to get the table cleared right early in the
evening."

"Is Mrs. Caley to have her say in this house or
am I? That's what I want to know. Am I to eat
so's she can clear the table, or is she to clear the table
when I have had my supper?"

"When it suits you, Gordon, of course. Oh,
Gordon!, whatever are you carrying?"

"A dog!"

"I didn't know you wanted a dog." An accent
of doubt crept into her voice, a hesitation. "I don't
know if I want a dog around... just now, Gordon."

"He won't do any harm; he's only a young dog,
anyhow. Ain't you a young dog, a regular puppy?
But, Lettice, he's got the grit of General Jackson;
he stood right up against the crowd at the store."

"Still, Gordon, right now--"

"I told you he wouldn't do any harm," the man
repeated in irritated tones; "he will be with me most
of the time, and not around the house. You're getting
too cranky for living, Lettice." He set the dog
upon his feet. "What I'll call him I don't know;

[[161]]

p160 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p161w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p162

v?