Part 56 (1/2)

I don't know what it is in him which so catches hold of you. His way of sitting, a reproachful statue, motionless outside the window of whomever he wants to come out and play with him--until you can bear it no longer, but must either go into the garden or draw down the blinds for the day; his habit, when you ARE out, of sitting up on his back legs and begging you with his front paws to come and DO something--a trick entirely of his own invention, for no one would think of teaching him anything; his funny nautical roll when he walks, which is nearly a swagger, and gives him always the air of having just come back from some rather das.h.i.+ng adventure; beyond all this there is still something. And whatever it is, it is something which every now and then compels you to bend down and catch hold of his long silky ears, to look into his honest eyes and say--

”You silly old a.s.s! You DEAR old SILLY old a.s.s!”

BETTY

THE HOTEL CHILD

I WAS in the lounge when I made her acquaintance, enjoying a pipe after tea, and perhaps--I don't know--closing my eyes now and then.

”Would you like to see my sh.e.l.ls?” she asked suddenly.

I woke up and looked at her. She was about seven years old, pretty, dark, and very much at ease.

”I should love it,” I said.

She produced a large paper bag from somewhere, and poured the contents in front of me.

”I've got two hundred and fifty-eight,” she announced.

”So I see,” I said. I wasn't going to count them.”

”I think they're very pretty. I'll give you one if you like. Which one will you choose?”

I sat up and examined them carefully. Seeing how short a time we had known each other, I didn't feel that I could take one of the good ones. After a little thought I chose quite a plain one, which had belonged to a winkle some weeks ago.

”Thank you very much,” I said.

”I don't think you choose sh.e.l.ls at all well,” she said scornfully.

”That's one of the ugly ones.”

”It will grow on me,” I explained. ”In a year or two I shall think it beautiful.”

”I'll let you have this one too,” said she, picking out the best.

”Now, shall we play at something?”

I had been playing at something all day. A little thinking in front of the fire was my present programme.

”Let's talk instead,” I suggested. ”What's your name?”

”Betty.”

”I knew it was Betty. You look just like Betty.”