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Updated: June 4, 2025
Anyhow, you're the only other person who has hit on the truth as far as I'm concerned. Finding one's soul is a bit high-falutin but that's about the size of it." "Peggy hasn't hit on the truth, then?" Oliver asked, with curious earnestness, the shade of mockery gone. "The war has scarcely touched her yet, you see," said Doggie. He rose, shrinking from discussion. "Shall we go in?"
Unconsciously, I think you are. What does your doctor say?" Doggie was taken aback. He had no doctor. He had not consulted one for years, having no cause for medical advice. The old family physician who had attended his mother in her last illness and had prescribed Gregory powders for him as a child, had retired from Durdlebury long ago.
He strode to a rose-bowl and knocked the ashes of his pipe into the water Doggie trembled lest he might next squirt tobacco juice over the ivory curtains. "You don't give a fellow a chance. Look here, tell me, as man to man, what are you going to do with your life?
He stared from the little dog to his victims, turned them over with his stout stick and counted them, and stared again. Bobby fixed his pleading eyes on the man and stood at strained attention while fate hung in the balance. "Guile wark! Guile wark! A braw doggie, an' an unco' fechter. Losh! but ye're a deil o' a bit dog!"
It was like that. I wasn't taking much interest in things for awhile, but when I did I found that I was the centre of a group of three the chauffeur, a small boy, and the small boy's nurse. The small boy was very well-dressed, and looked delicate. He was crying. 'Poor doggie, he said, 'poor doggie. 'It wasn't my fault, Master Peter, said the chauffeur respectfully.
He just gave the tail of that big dog a little nip, and when the big dog turned around to see what was the matter, why Wienerwurst jumped through the hoop all by himself. So pleased was he that he ran round the ring, looking up at the people in their seats, with his little pink tongue hanging out in delight. A great doggie was Wienerwurst.
"Never mind, though, I have got you, my good doggie; and I shan't forget how you came to my help, nor how glad I was to catch hold of your poor tail, you dear Rover, when you dragged me out of that horrid hole!"
All of which to Doggie, the unsophisticated, would have seemed ridiculous, had it not been so tragic. He couldn't reconcile the beautiful letter, written in faultless handwriting and impeccable French, with the rain-swept girl on the escarpment. What did she mean? What had come over her? But the ways of Jeannes are not the ways of Doggies.
Youth and the splendid constitution which Dr. Murdoch had proclaimed in the far-off days of the war's beginning, and the toughening training of the war itself, carried him through. No more fighting for Doggie this side of the grave. But the grave was as far distant as it is from any young man in his twenties who avoids abnormal peril.
Doggie, always courteous, went out with a "Bon soir, mademoiselle," and joined his friends. "What were you jabbering to her about?" Mo asked suspiciously. Doggie gave him the literal translation of his speech. Phineas burst into loud laughter. "Laddie," said he, "I've never heard you make a joke before. The idiot of the regiment, and you're his keeper! Man, that's fine.
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