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He rolled as he walked. Such a sight had never been seen before in the Deanery garden. "That's my man. Peggy's valet," said Oliver airily. "His name is Chipmunk. A beauty, isn't he?" "Like master, like man," murmured Doggie. Oliver's quick ears caught the words intended only for Peggy. He smiled brightly.
"Anyhow, if they were up here, I just reckon they'd change and take Jimmy Bean for their little boy, all right," she finished, secure in her conviction, but unable to give a reason for it, even to herself. Suddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. A dog had barked some distance ahead. A moment later he came dashing toward her, still barking. "Hullo, doggie hullo!"
The matter would have drifted out of Doggie's mind as one of no importance had not the detested appellation by which Phineas hailed him struck the imagination of his comrades. It filled a long-felt want, no nickname for Private J. M. Trevor having yet been invented. Doggie Trevor he was and Doggie Trevor he remained for the rest of his period of service. He resigned himself to the inevitable.
He found that Oliver, although unlearned, had a true sense of light and colour and tone. He was just beginning to like him, when the tactless fellow, stopping before the collection of little dogs, spoiled everything. "My holy aunt!" he cried an objurgation which Doggie had abhorred from boyhood and he doubled with laughter in his horrid schoolboy fashion "My dear Doggie is that your family?
"It ain't that I can't lick him," says Ben "I've proved that three times; but having to do it every so often, which is beneath the dignity of a high railroad official. I might as well be a common rowdy and be done with it, by doggie! And no telling what will happen if he don't get his mind back. The little devil is an awful scrapper. I noticed it more than ever this last time.
"By the way," said Doggie, "you haven't told me why you became a soldier." "A series of vicissitudes dating from the hour I left your house," said Phineas, "vicissitudes the recital of which would wring your heart, laddie, and make angels weep if their lachrymal glands were not too busily engaged by the horrors of war, culminated four months ago in an attack of fervid and penniless patriotism.
You haven't finished your stint what made you get out of your chair?" "O, I thought grandma might want me to get her speckles. I thought I would go and find Zip too. See, mamma, he's so tickled to see me he shakes all over every bit of him!" "Where's your patchwork?" "I don't know. You've got a double name, haven't you, doggie? It's Zip Coon, but it isn't a very double name, is it, mother?"
Murdoch for an appointment." "You're flabby," said Dr. Murdoch the next morning to an anxious Doggie in pink pyjamas; "but that's merely a matter of unused muscles. Physical training will set it right in no time. Otherwise, my dear Trevor, you're in splendid health. I was afraid your family history might be against you the child of elderly parents, and so forth. But nothing of the sort.
Doggie almost embraced them when they met. "Laddie," said McPhail to him, as he was drinking a mahogany-coloured liquid that was known by the name of tea, out of a tin mug, and eating a hunk of bread and jam, "I don't know whether or not I'm pleased to see you. You were safer in England. Once I misspent many months of my life in shielding you from the dangers of France.
Doc. organist of the cathedral, scattered broadcast golden opinions of Doggie. There was once a concert of old English music, which the dramatic critics of the great newspapers attended and one of them mentioned Doggie "Mr. Marmaduke Trevor, who played the viol da gamba as to the manner born." Doggie cut out the notice, framed it, and stuck it up in his peacock and ivory sitting-room.
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