“Now you listen me!” said Kitty Silver.
“I ain’t see no dog eat orange in all
my days, an’ I ain’t see nobody else whut
see dog eat orange! No, ma’am, an’
I ain’t nev’ hear o’ nobody else
whut ev’ see nobody whut see dog eat orange!”
Herbert decided to be less impressed. “Oh,
I’ve heard of dogs that’d eat apples,”
he said. “Yes, and watermelon and nuts and
things.” As he spoke he played with the
tennis ball upon his racket, and concluded by striking
the ball high into the air. Its course was not
true; and it descended far over toward the orchard,
where Herbert ran to catch it—but he was
not quick enough. At the moment the ball left
the racket Gammire abandoned his prayers: his
eyes, like a careful fielder’s, calculating
and estimating, followed the swerve of the ball in
the breeze, and when it fell he was on the correct
spot. He caught it.
Herbert shouted. “He caught it on the fly!
It must have been an accident. Here——”
And he struck the ball into the air again. It
went high—twice as high as the house—and
again Gammire “judged” it; continuously
shifting his position, his careful eyes never leaving
the little white globe, until just before the last
instant of its descent he was motionless beneath it.
He caught it again, and Herbert whooped.
Gammire brought the ball to him and invited him to
proceed with the game. That there might be no
mistaking his desire, Gammire “sat up”
and prayed; nor did he find Herbert anything loth.
Out of nine chances Gammire “muffed” the
ball only twice, both times excusably, and Florence
once more flung her arms about the willing performer.
“Who do you s’pose trained this
wonderful, darling doggie?” she cried.
Mrs. Silver shook her marvelling head. “He
mus’ ‘a’ come thataway,”
she said. “I bet nobody ‘t all ain’
train him; he do whut he want to hisse’f.
That Gammire don’ ast nobody to train him.”
“Oh, goodness!” Florence said, with sudden
despondency. “It’s awful!”
“Whut is?”
“To think of as lovely a dog as this having
to face grandpa!”
“‘Face’ him!” Kitty Silver
echoed forebodingly. “I reckon you’
grampaw do mo’n dess ‘face’ him.”
“That’s what I mean,” Florence explained.
“I expect he’s just brute enough to drive
him off.”
“Yes’m,” said Mrs. Silver.
“He git madder ev’y time somebody sen’
her new pet. You’ grampaw mighty nervous
man, an’ everlas’n’ly do hate animals.”
“He hasn’t seen Gammire, has he?”
“Don’t look like it, do it?” said
Kitty Silver. “Dog here yit.”
“Well, then I——” Florence
paused, glancing at Herbert, for she had just been
visited by a pleasant idea and had no wish to share
it with him. “Is Aunt Julia in the house?”
“She were, li’l while ago.”
“I want to see her about somep’n I ought
to see her about,” said Florence. “I’ll
be out in a minute.”
