Page:Emma Speed Sampson--The shorn lamb.djvu/205

Rh love me just a little?" The dog raised his paw and put it against her breast.

"Here—you can have all my corn bread. I am too full of emotion for solid food. I'll drink the buttermilk."

The dog licked the platter clean and the child drained the glass. Then together they raced around the house and down to the river bank. They had much to tell each other.

Rebecca and Doctor had a never-to-be-forgotten, but often to be repeated, time together down by the riverside. Doctor was like some man who had passed the period of puppy love without being even exposed to the malady, but who, in sober middle-age, had caught the disease and was taking it harder than he would had he had it in his youth. His master's conversation was good enough in its way, but it was nothing to the endearing baby-talk Rebecca was pouring into his twitching, silken ears. A masculine pat was about all he ever got from Spottswood, but this adorable girl was fondling him, rubbing his nose, scratching his throat and picking burrs out of his fur. He was particularly grateful that she found a tick that was burying itself on top of his tail, right at the root, where no dog ever can quite reach with either paw or tooth.

They sat on the river bank a long time. Re-