Down in the mystic, hidden
fields of his little dog-soul bloomed flowers of love and fidelity and
perfect faith.
The child was in the habit of going on many expeditions to observe
strange things in the vicinity. On these occasions his friend usually
jogged aimfully along behind. Perhaps, though, he went ahead. This
necessitated his turning around every quarter-minute to make sure the
child was coming. He was filled with a large idea of the importance of
these journeys. He would carry himself with such an air! He was proud to
be the retainer of so great a monarch.
One day, however, the father of the family got quite exceptionally
drunk. He came home and held carnival with the cooking utensils, the
furniture and his wife. He was in the midst of this recreation when the
child, followed by the dark-brown dog, entered the room. They were
returning from their voyages.
The child's practised eye instantly noted his father's state. He dived
under the table, where experience had taught him was a rather safe
place. The dog, lacking skill in such matters, was, of course, unaware
of the true condition of affairs. He looked with interested eyes at his
friend's sudden dive. He interpreted it to mean: Joyous gambol. He
started to patter across the floor to join him. He was the picture of a
little dark-brown dog en route to a friend.
The head of the family saw him at this moment.
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