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Updated: June 29, 2025
We shall have to be there, in case of a row." Nebbie yawned, stretched out his paws, and closed both eyes in peaceful slumber. It was a beautiful afternoon; 'sufficient for the day was the evil thereof' according to Nebbie. The Reverend John turned over a few more pages of Owen Meredith, and presently came to the conclusion that he would go punting.
Nebbie caught and killed them whenever he could, but he had no particular taste for swimming, and he was on rather 'strained relations' with a pair of swans who, with a brood of cygnets kept fierce guard on the opposite bank against all unwelcome intrusion. His careful examination of the lily beds done, John Walden sprang back again from the pier to the land, and there hesitated a moment.
Yes, Nebbie!" and he gently patted the head of the faithful animal, who, with inborn sagacity instinctively guessing that his master was somewhat annoyed, was clambering with caressing forepaws against his knee. "Our rambles by the big elms and silvery birches and under the beautiful tall pines are over, Nebbie! and we shouldn't be human if we weren't just a trifle sorry!
For it was many weary weeks since 'Passon' had taken any interest in his 'forced blooms. Nebbie, having got thoroughly draggled and muddy by jumping wildly after his master through an exceedingly wet tangle of ivy, sat demurely watching him, as the little heap of delicately scented blossoms increased.
Here, the sole occupant of the shining stream was a maternal swan, white as a cloud on the summit of Mont Blanc, floating in stately ease up and down the water, carrying her young brood of cygnets on her back, under the snowy curve of her arching wings. Walden unchained the punt and sprang into it, Nebbie dutifully following, and then divested himself of his coat.
Then he went into his own garden with the Iliad, and addressing his ever attentive and complaisant dog, said: "Look here, Nebbie we mustn't think about her!
Plato rose and paced majestically after his mistress, Nebbie trotting meekly at the rear, and so they all went forth from the postmistress's garden into the road, where Walden, pausing, raised his hat in farewell. "Oh, are you going?" queried Maryllia. "Won't you walk with me as far as your own rectory?"
She's a bewildering little person, with a good deal of the witch glamour in her eyes and smile, and it's quite absurd for such staid and humdrum creatures as you and I, Nebbie, to imagine that we can ever be of the slightest service to her, or to dream that she ever gives us a single thought when she has once turned her back upon us.
The train by which Miss Vancourt would arrive, was timed to reach Riversford station at three, if it was not late, which it generally was. Nebbie, who had been snoozing peacefully near the study window in a patch of sunlight, suddenly rose, shook himself, and trotted out on to the lawn, sniffing the air with ears and tail erect. Walden watched him abstractedly.
"Nebuchadnezzar!" he said, with mock solemnity; whereat Nebbie, lying at his feet, opened one eye, blinked it lazily and wagged his tail "Nebuchadnezzar, I think our presence will be needed to-morrow morning at an early hour, in attendance on the Five Sisters! Do you hear me, Nebuchadnezzar?" Again Nebbie blinked. "Good! That wink expresses understanding.
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