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Updated: June 12, 2025
Her look and every inflection of the defiant high voice proved she meant it; proved it to the dumfounded Ruloff, in a way that sent funny little shivers down his spine. The man came to a shambling halt; aghast at the transfigured little wisp of humanity who confronted him in such gay fearlessness. "Why don't I dare?" he blustered, lifting the brass-buckled weapon again.
In the same instant he beheld the advancing Ruloff; and the wise old brain read the situation at a glance. Stopping only to lick the tear-streaked little face, Lad bounded in front of Sonya and faced the father. The collie's feeble old body was tense; his eyes blazed with indignant fury. His hackles bristled. The yellowed and useless teeth glinted from beneath back-writhed lips.
At sight of it, Sonya started up. She was not certain how the car's occupants would take her preempting of the veranda in their absence. Letting Lad's head gently down to the floor, she slipped away. To the barn she went, ignorant that her father had not returned to the orchard. She wanted to get herself into a more courageous frame of mind before meeting Ruloff.
Every time she passed the house she loitered as long as she dared, in hope of getting a glimpse of him. "I wonder where Laddie is," she ventured, once, as her father was filling a basket for her to carry. "The dogs have gone to a silly show," grunted Ruloff, piling the basket. "The superintendent told me, yesterday. To waste a whole day with dogs! Pouf! No wonder the world is poor!
He woke; listened; got up painfully and started toward the front door. Halfway to the door, his brain cleared sufficiently for him to recognize the voice that had awakened him. And his leisurely walk merged into a run. Ruloff and Sonya had been working all morning in the peach orchard. To the child's chagrin, Lad was nowhere in sight.
The youngster wore but a single garment, a shapeless calico dress that fell scarcely to her knees. She was Sonya, the seven-year-old daughter of one of the Place's extra workmen, a Slav named Ruloff who lived in the mile-distant village, across the lake. Ruloff, following the custom of his peasant ancestors, put his whole family to work, from the time its members were old enough to toddle.
Then, as Ruloff advanced, Lad took one majestic step forward; his great body shielding the girl; his dark eyes sternly on the man's; his lips drawing back from his blunted yellow fangs. Deep in his throat a growl was born. Ruloff checked himself; looking doubtfully at the shaggy brute. And at the same moment the superintendent appeared over the ridge of the hill, on his way to the orchard.
Wherefore, Ruloff had perforce curbed his parental urgings toward violence; at least during the hours when he and the child were on the Place. Sonya was an engaging little thing; and the Mistress had made a pet of her. So had the Master. But the youngster's warmest friend was old Sunnybank Lad.
By experience she judged he would make her pay, and pay dear, for the fright the collie had given him. Into the barn she ran, shutting fast its side door behind her. Then, midway across the dusky hay-strewn space, she came to a gasping stop. Ruloff had risen from a box on the corner, had set down his lunch pail, moved between her and the door and yanked off his brass-buckled belt.
And that cure was being applied at the moment he denied its existence. Sonya had disappeared from view over the crest of the lawn: Down into the orchard she went, Lad at her side; to where Ruloff was waiting for her to lug another full basket back to the house. "Move!" he ordered, as she drew near. "Don't crawl! Move, or I'll make you move." This threat he voiced very bravely indeed.
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