I
The servants had gathered in the front hall to inspect the new
arrival--cook, kitchen-maid, butler, flanked on the right by
parlor-maids, on the left by a footman and a small buttons.
The new arrival was a snow-white bull-terrier, alert, ardent, quivering
in expectation of a welcome among these strangers, madly wagging his
whiplike tail in passionate silence.
When the mistress of the house at last came down the great stone
stairway, the servants fell back in a semi-circle, leaving her face to
face with the white bull-terrier.
"So _that_ is the dog!" she said, in faint astonishment. A respectful
murmur of assent corroborated her conclusion.
The dog's eyes met hers; she turned to the servants with a perplexed
gesture.
"Is the brougham at the door?" asked the young mistress of the house.
The footman signified that it was.
"Then tell Phelan to come here at once."
Phelan, the coachman, arrived, large, rosy, freshly shaven, admirably
correct.
"Phelan," said the young mistress, "look at that dog."
The coachman promptly fixed his eyes on the wagging bull-terrier. In
spite of his decorous gravity a smile of distinct pleasure slowly spread
over his square, pink face until it became a subdued simper.
"Is that a well-bred dog, Phelan?" demanded the young mistress.
"It is, ma'am," replied Phelan, promptly.
"Very well bred?"
"Very, ma'am."
"Dangerous?"
"In a fight, ma'am." Stifled enthusiasm swelled the veins in the
coachman's forehead. Triumphant paeans of praise for the bull-terrier
trembled upon his lips; but he stood rigid, correct, a martyr to his
perfect training.
"Say what you wish to say, Phelan," prompted the young mistress, with a
hasty glance at the dog.
"Thanky, ma'am.... The bull is the finest I ever laid eyes on.... He
hasn't a blemish, ma'am; and the three years of him doubled will leave
him three years to his prime, ma'am.... And there's never another bull,
nor a screw-tail, nor cross, be it mastiff or fox or whippet, ma'am,
that can loose the holt o' thim twin jaws.... Beg pardon, ma'am, I know
the dog."
"You mean that you have seen that dog before?"
"Yes, ma'am; he won his class from a pup at the Garden. That is 'His
Highness,' ma'am, Mr. Langham's champion three-year."
She had already stooped to caress the silent, eager dog--timidly,
because she had never before owned a dog--but at the mention of his
master's name she drew back sharply and stood erect.
"Never fear, ma'am," said the coachman, eagerly; "he won't bite,
ma'am--"
"Mr. Langham's dog?" she repeated, coldly; and then, without another
glance at either the dog or the coachman, she turned to the front door;
buttons swung it wide with infantile dignity; a moment later she was in
her brougham, with Phelan on the box and the rigid footman expectant at
the window.