ver
rested upon the back steps, on her return from the excursion, she
fiercely informed him that she had never lost a grandchild and that she
would not adopt a stranger in place of one; her implication being that
he, a stranger, had been suggested for the position and considered
himself eligible for it.

He continued to pray, not relaxing a hair.

"Listen to me, dog," said Kitty Silver. "Is you a dog, or isn't you a
dog? Whut _is_ you, anyway?"

But immediately she withdrew the question. "I ain't astin' you!" she
exclaimed superstitiously. "If you isn't no dog, don't you take an' tell
me whut you is: you take an' keep it to you'se'f, 'cause I don' want to
listen to it!"

For the garnet eyes beneath the great black chrysanthemum indeed seemed
to hint that their owner was about to use human language in a human
voice. Instead, however, he appeared to be content with his little
exhibition, allowed his forepaws to return to the ground, and looked at
her with his head wistfully tilted to one side. This reassured her and
even somewhat won her. There stirred within her that curious sense of
relationship evoked from the first by his suggestive appearance;
fondness was being born, and an admiration that was in a way a form of
Narcissism. She addressed him in a mollified voice:

"Whut you want now? Don' tell me you' hungry, 'cause you awready done et
two dog biskit an' big saucer milk. Whut you stick you' ole black face
crossways at _me_ fer, honey?"

But just then the dog rose to look pointedly toward the corner of the
house. "Somebody's coming," he meant.

"Who you spectin', li'l dog?" Mrs. Silver inquired.

Florence and Herbert came round the house, Herbert trifling with a
tennis ball and carrying a racket under his arm. Florence was peeling an
orange.

"For Heavenses' sakes!" Florence cried. "Kitty Silver, where on earth'd
this dog come from?"

"B'long you' Aunt Julia."

"When'd she get him?"

"Dess to-day."

"Who gave him to her?"

"She ain't sayin'."

"You mean she won't tell?"

"She ain't sayin'," Kitty Silver repeated. "I ast her. I say, I say:
'Miss Julia, ma'am,' I say, 'Miss Julia, ma'am, who ever sen' you sech a
unlandish-lookin' dog?' I say. All she say when I ast her: 'Nemmine!'
she say, dess thataway. 'Nemmine!' she say. I reckon she ain't goin'
tell nobody who give her this dog."

"He's certainly a mighty queer-lookin' dog," said Herbert. "I've seen a
few like that, but I can't remember whe