Part 19 (2/2)

”Bother the gun! This is better than--I mean--won't you take a gla.s.s of wine?”

She declined emphatically and with haste, and hurried into the hall. He opened the front door for her, and they stood together for a moment on the dustless door-mat, mathematically laid upon verandah boards as white as new-peeled almonds.

”What a lovely garden!” remarked Rose, as she stepped down to it. Those were her words, but what she really said in her mind was: ”Who would think he was a draper?”

Francie was aroused from her Sunday afternoon snooze on the drawing-room sofa.

”What IS the matter with that dog?” she complained pettishly. ”Surely, after howling like a starved dingo all night--be quiet, Pepper! One of you is enough.” Rose's terrier was up and fidgeting, with p.r.i.c.ked ears.

”They must be killing him!” cried Deb, lifting her handsome head from her book.

”Oh, no,” said Rose; ”that sort of bark means joy, not pain.”

”Poor, dear beast! What's making him joyful, I wonder?”

”I must go up and see,” said Rose, who had carefully refrained from mentioning her forenoon proceedings.

The drowsy pair sank back upon their cus.h.i.+ons; only Pepper accompanied her to the attic room. He jumped upon the window seat, wriggling and yapping, and they looked forth together from the open cas.e.m.e.nt upon the spectacle of Bruce and Mr Peter apparently engaged in mortal combat.

The collie had realised that he was off the chain and about to take a walk, and was expressing himself not merely in frenzied yells, but in acrobatic feats that threatened to overwhelm his master. The latter, tall-hatted, frock-coated, lavender-trousered, with a cane in his hand and a flower in his b.u.t.ton-hole, jumped and dodged wildly to escape the leaping ma.s.s, his face puckered with anxiety for the results of his experiment. Pepper's delighted comments drew his eyes upwards, and he made s.h.i.+ft to raise his hat, with a smile that was instantly and generously repaid. Rose nodded and waved her hand, and Peter went off, making gestures and casting backward glances at her, until he was a mere dot upon the distant road, with another dot circling around him.

”Dear fellow!” she mused, when he was out of sight.

CHAPTER XV.

Bruce went unchained, within limits, and had a run nearly every day.

Workmen came to put a railing and gate to the back verandah of his establishment, and Mrs Breen kept a fidgety watch upon his movements; but evidently the only son's will ruled, and he was more than faithful to his compact with Rose. She was able to see this from her commanding window, and to hear it from Bruce's mouth; and day by day her heart warmed towards Bruce's master. Many were the friendly smiles and salutes that pa.s.sed between the attic window and the Breen back-yard, all unknown to Rose's sisters.

They were walking with her one Sat.u.r.day afternoon, when they met Mr Peter and the collie. Pepper ran forward to greet Bruce, and they sniffed at each other's noses and wagged their respective tails in a friendly way. Deb was remarking to Rose that their pity for the Breens'

dog had been quite misplaced, when a bow from her sister and a lift of the hat by the young man caused her to stop short and raise her fine brows inquiringly.

”Rose!”

”I--I spoke to him one day,” explained Rose, pink as her pinkest namesake. ”About Bruce.”

”Who's Bruce?”

”That's Bruce--his dog.”

Frances came running up. ”Rose,” said she indignantly, ”did you bow to that man?”

”He is our neighbour next door,” mumbled Rose.

”I know that. So is the wood-carter. But is that a reason why you should bow to him? Do you know who those people are?”

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