At this Florence looked piqued. "Well, I guess I got _some_ manners!"
she exclaimed. "I know as well as you do, Aunt Julia, there's no
etiquette in coming right square out and asking how much it was when
somebody goes and makes you a present. I'm certainly enough of a lady to
keep my mouth shut when it's more polite to! But I don't see what harm
there is in telling who it is that gives anybody a present."
"No harm at all," Julia murmured as she sealed the note she had written.
Then she turned smilingly to face her niece. "Only I'm not going to."
"Well, then, Aunt Julia"--and now Florence came to her point--"what I
wanted to know is just simply the plain and simple question: Will you
give this dog Gammire to me?"
Julia leaned forward, laughing, and suddenly clapped her hands together,
close to Florence's face. "No, I won't!" she cried. "There!"
The niece frowned, lines of anxiety appearing upon her forehead. "Well,
why won't you?"
"I won't do it!"
"But, Aunt Julia, I think you ought to!"
"Why ought I to?"
"Because----" said Florence. "Well, it's necessary."
"Why?"
"Because you know as well as I do what's bound to happen to him!"
"What is?"
"Grandpa'll chase him off," said Florence. "He'll take after him the
minute he lays eyes on him, and scare him to death--and then he'll get
lost, and he won't be _anybody's_ dog! I should think you'd just as lief
he'd be my dog as have him chased all over town till a street car hits
him or somep'n."