The Day of the Dog | Page 7

she asked quickly.
"I had forgotten an engagement in Chicago for to-night. Box party at
the comic opera," he said, looking nervously at his watch.
"It would be too bad if you missed it," she said sweetly. "You'd be
much more comfortable in a box."
"You are consoling at least. Are you going to coax him off?"
"In behalf of the box party, I'll try. Come, Swallow. There's a nice
doggie!"

Crosby watched the proceedings with deepest interest and concern and
not a little admiration. But not only did Swallow refuse to abdicate but
he seemed to take decided exceptions to the feminine method of appeal.
He evidently did not like to be called "doggie," "pet," "dearie," and all
such.
"He won't come," she cried plaintively.
"I have it!" he exclaimed, his face brightening. "Will you hand me that
three-tined pitchfork over there? With that in my hands I'll make
Swallow see--Look out! For heaven's sake, don't go near him! He'll kill
you." She had taken two or three steps toward the dog, her hand
extended pleadingly, only to be met by an ominous growl, a fine
display of teeth, and a bristling back. As if paralyzed, she halted at the
foot of the ladder, terror suddenly taking possession of her.
"Can you get the pitchfork?"
"I am afraid to move," she moaned. "He is horrible--horrible!"
"I'll come down, Mrs. Delancy, and hang the consequences," Crosby
cried, and was suiting the action to the word when she cried out in
remonstrance.
"Don't come down--don't! He'll kill you. I forbid you to come down,
Mr. Crosby. Look at him! Oh, he's coming toward me! Don't come
down!" she shrieked. "I'll come up!"
Grasping her skirts with one hand she started frantically up the ladder,
her terrified eyes looking into the face of the man above. There was a
vicious snarl from the dog, a savage lunge, and then something closed
over her arm like a vice. She felt herself being jerked upward and a
second later she was on the beam beside the flushed young man whose
strong hand and not the dog's jaws had reached her first. He was
obliged to support her for a few minutes with one of his emphatic arms,
so near was she to fainting.
"Oh," she gasped at last, looking into his eyes questioningly. "Did he

bite me? I was not sure, you know. He gave such an awful leap for me.
How did you do it?"
"A simple twist of the wrist, as the prestidigitators say. You had a close
call, my dear Mrs. Delancy." He was a-quiver with new sensations that
were sending his spirits sky high. After all it was not turning out so
badly.
"He would have dragged me down had it not been for you. And I might
have been torn to pieces," she shuddered, glancing down at the now
infuriated dog.
"It would have been appalling," he agreed, discreetly allowing her to
imagine the worst.
"How can I ever thank you?" cried she impulsively. He made a very
creditable show of embarrassment in the effort to convince her that he
had accomplished only what any man would have attempted under
similar circumstances. She was thoroughly convinced that no other man
could have succeeded.
"Well, we're in a pretty position, are we not?" he asked in the end.
"I think I can stick on without being held, Mr. Crosby," she said, and
his arm slowly and regretfully came to parade rest.
"Are you sure you won't get dizzy?" he demanded in deep solicitude.
"I'll not look down," she said, smiling into his eyes. He lost the power
of speech for a moment. "May I look at those figures now?"
For the next ten minutes she studiously followed him as he explained
the contents of the various papers. She held the sheets and they sat very
close to each other on the big beam. The dog looked on in sour disgust.
"They cannot be wrong," she cried at last. Her eyes were sparkling.
"You are as good as an angel."
"I only regret that I can't complete the illusion by unfolding a strong

and convenient pair of wings," he said dolorously. "How are we to
catch that train for Chicago?"
"I'm afraid we can't," she said demurely. "You'll miss the box party."
"That's a pleasure easily sacrificed."
"Besides, you are seeing me on business. Pleasure should never
interfere with business, you know."
"It doesn't seem to," he said, and the dog saw them smile tranquilly into
each other's eyes.
"Oh, isn't this too funny for words?" He looked very grateful.
"I wonder when Austin will condescend to release us."
"I have come to a decision, Mr. Crosby," she said irrelevantly.
"Indeed?"
"I shall never speak to Robert Austin again, and I'll never enter his