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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Lucky for us," she said, "we had a nice dray bid MANS to protect us, wasn't it, Flopit?" And she thought it necessary to repeat something she had already made sufficiently emphatic. "Nassy laundrymans!" "I expect I gave that big mongrel the fright of his life," said Mr. Watson, with complacency. "He'll probably run a mile!"
She had not said "like"; she had said, "Flopit LOVE ole friends best"! William pressed forward valiantly, and placed himself as close as possible upon the right of Miss Pratt, the lummox being upon her left. A moment later, William wished that he had remained in the rear.
He knew that if Clematis meant to see Flopit, a strong will, a ready brain, and stern action were needed to thwart him; but at all costs that meeting must be prevented. Things had been awful enough, without that!
A dainty figure in white sat beside it, and there was another white figure present, though this one was so small that Mr. Baxter did not see it at all. It was the figure of a tiny doglet, and it reposed upon the black masculine knees that belonged to the evening bosom. Mr. Baxter heard a dulcet voice. "He IS indifferink, isn't he, sweetest Flopit? Seriously, though, Mr.
Flopit was baresark from the first, and the mystery is where he learned the dog-cursing that he did. In spite of the David-and-Goliath difference in size it would be less than justice to deny that a very fair dog-fight took place. It was so animated, in truth, that the one expert in such matters who was present found himself warmly interested.
And as for the third of this little party, Miss Parcher's visitor, those peregrinating legs suggested nothing familiar to her. "Oh, see the fun-ee laundrymans!" she cried, addressing a cottony doglet's head that bobbed gently up and down over her supporting arm. "Sweetest Flopit must see, too! Flopit, look at the fun-ee laundrymans!" "'Sh!" murmured Miss Parcher, choking. "He might hear you."
And, repeating the honeyed word, so entrancingly distorted, he fell into a kind of stupor; vague, beautiful pictures rising before him, the one least blurred being of himself, on horseback, sweeping between Flopit and a racing automobile. "But shall I not see you again, to thank you more properly?" she cried, pleading. "Some other day perhaps," he answered. And left her in a cloud of dust.
"If he owns that dog," asserted the still furious owner of Flopit, "I WILL have him arrested. Where is he? Where is that laundryman?" "Why, he," Genesis began slowly, "HE ain' no laundrym " He came to an uncertain pause. If she chose to assume, with quick feminine intuition, that the dog was William's and that William was a laundryman, it was not Genesis's place to enlighten her.
"Don't forget!" she whispered. "Don't forget Lola!" He stood stock-still. His face was blank, his hand limp. He said nothing. She enfolded May Parcher, kissed her devotedly; then, with Flopit once more under her arm, she ran and jumped upon the steps just as the train began to move.
"You make that horrible dog stop, or I'll have you arrested!" Genesis rushed forward. "You CLEM!" he shouted. And instantly Clematis was but a whitish and brownish streak along the hedge. He ran like a dog in a moving picture when they speed the film, and he shot from sight, once more, round the corner, while Flopit, still cursing, was seized and squeezed in his mistress's embrace.
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