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He knew right away that you were a stranger, now, yesterday, when the butcher came, there was a new driver on the cart and Weejee knew it right away, grabbed the man by the leg at once, wouldn't let go. I called out to the man that it was all right or he might have done Weejee some harm." At this moment Weejee took the second nip at my other trouser leg.
"You know I don't think he means anything by it," said Mrs. Sopley. "Oh, I'm SURE he doesn't," I answered. Weejee was coming nearer to me again as I spoke. "WEEJEE!!" cried my hostess, "naughty dog, bad!" "Funny thing about that dog," said Sopley, "the way he KNOWS people. It's a sort of instinct.
Weejee had his tail sideways between his legs and was moving towards me again. "Hold on," said Sopley in a stern tone, "let me throw him in." "Do be careful, Charles," said his wife.
"I think you'll find everything you need," said Sopley, as he showed me to my room, "and, by the way, don't mind if Weejee comes into your room at night. We like to let him run all over the house and he often sleeps on this bed." "All right," I said cheerfully, "I'll look after him." That night Weejee came.
He don't MEAN anything, you know, it was only the SUIT made him angry, he really likes Mr. Van Toy, but just for a minute we were quite alarmed. If Mr. Van Toy hadn't carried Weejee in I think he might have been drowned. "By jove!" I said in a tone to indicate how appalled I was. "Let me throw the stick, Charles," continued Mrs. Sopley.
"How lovely it is here," I said to my host and hostess, "and how still." It was at this moment that Weejee, the pet dog, took a sharp nip at the end of my tennis trousers. "Weejee!!" exclaimed his mistress with great emphasis, "BAD dog! how dare you, sir! BAD dog!" "I hope he hasn't hurt you," said my host. "Oh, it's nothing," I answered cheerfully. "He hardly scratched me."
Sopley picked Weejee up by the collar and carried him to the edge of the water it was about six inches deep, and threw him in, with much the same force as, let us say, a pen is thrown into ink or a brush dipped into a pot of varnish. "That's enough; that's quite enough, Charles," exclaimed Mrs. Sopley. "I think he'd better not swim. The water in the evening is always a little cold.
And when it was far on in the dead of night so that even the lake and the trees were hushed in sleep, I took Weejee out and but there is no need to give the details of it. And the Sopleys are still wondering where Weejee has gone to, and waiting for him to come back, because he is so clever at finding his way. But from where Weejee is, no one finds his way back. XIV. Sidelights on the Supermen.
Weejee, lie down, down, sir, good dog, bad dog, lie down!" "It's all right," I said. "I've another white suit in my valise." "But you must be wet through," said Mrs. Sopley. "Perhaps we'd better go in. It's getting late, anyway, isn't it?" And then she added to her husband, "I don't think Weejee ought to sit out here now that he's wet." So we went in.
He sank down and grassed. And after they had sat thus for another half-hour grassing and growling and angling and sensing one another, it turned out that all that he was trying to say was to ask if she would marry him. And of course she said yes. XIII. Weejee the Pet Dog. An Idyll of the Summer We were sitting on the verandah of the Sopley's summer cottage.
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