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Updated: May 17, 2025
Harcourt Talboys was far too practical to indulge in any foolish fancies. A barometer and an umbrella-stand were the only adornments of his entrance-hall. Robert Audley looked at these while his name was being submitted to George's father. The linen-jacketed servant returned presently.
"It is Corpus Christi day," said Monsieur Vigo; "let us go and see the procession." Here once more were the bright-turbaned negresses, the gay Creole gowns and scarfs, the linen-jacketed, broad-hatted merchants, with those of soberer and more conventional dress, laughing and chatting, the children playing despite the heat. Many of these people greeted Monsieur Vigo.
"It is Corpus Christi day," said Monsieur Vigo; "let us go and see the procession." Here once more were the bright-turbaned negresses, the gay Creole gowns and scarfs, the linen-jacketed, broad-hatted merchants, with those of soberer and more conventional dress, laughing and chatting, the children playing despite the heat. Many of these people greeted Monsieur Vigo.
"This is all I can find about dogs," explained the boy, passing the linen-jacketed little volume across the counter to Link. "First story in it is an essay on 'Our Friend, the Dog, the index says. Want it?" That evening, by his kitchen lamp, Ferris read laboriously the Belgian philosopher's dog essay. He read it aloud as he had taken to thinking aloud for Chum's benefit.
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