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But the very next morning, before 10 o'clock, there came a knock upon the Departmental door and he walked into her office, looking more matter-of-fact and businesslike than she had ever seen him. Second Meeting between a Citizen and the Great Pleasure-Dog Behemoth, involving Plans for Two New Homes. And this time they did not have to go into the hall to talk.
Not that the places of our two scholars can ever be filled, but the boarding-house business is booming these days. We are turning them away. Do you remember the night that you walked in here an hour late for supper, and I arose and collected twenty dollars from you?" "Oh, yes.... By the way I have never asked whatever became of that extraordinary pleasure-dog of yours?" "Thank you.
And as he turned, his gaze, which had shifted only to get away from hers, was suddenly arrested and became fixed. In the corner of the room, beside the bookcase holding the works of Conant, Willoughby, and Smathers, lay the great pleasure-dog Behemoth, leonine head sunk upon two massive outstretched paws.
"But what is the object of a dog like that?" inquired the man ruminatively. "What good is he? What is he for?" "Why why why," said she, looking ready to laugh "he's not a utilitarian dog at all, you see! He's a pleasure-dog, you know just a big, beautiful dog to give pleasure!
"It was my dog that upset you on Main Street this afternoon. You may remember ...? I thought you seemed to to limp a little when you came in just now. I'm awfully sorry for the mishap " "It is of no consequence," he said, with some signs of unrest. "I walk seldom. Your pleasure-dog was uninjured, I trust?" "Thank you. He was never better."
"My dog knocked you over in the street one day surely you remember the pleasure-dog? and then that night I gave you your supper at Mrs. Paynter's and afterwards collected twenty dollars from you for back board. I am Mrs. Paynter's niece and my name is Charlotte Weyland." Weyland?... Weyland? Oho! So this was the girl sure enough that Henry G. Surface had stripped of her fortune. Well, well!
Standing beside the little typewriter-table, exactly where her caller had surprised her, she had watched with a mortifying dumbness the second meeting between the pleasure-dog and the little Doctor that was. But now pride sprang to her aid, stinging her into speech.
Certainly Behemoth must have perceived what was so plain even to a human critic, that here was the first dog this man had ever patted in his life. Yet, being a pleasure-dog, he was wholly civil about it. In fact, after a lidless scrutiny unembarrassed by any recollections of his last meeting with this young man, he declared for friendship.
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