Donald walked with stately steps toward his
mistress, and Bess was following, with a shiver of reluctance
and a backward glance towards the fire-light which shone through
the open door, when suddenly she sniffed the presence of a
stranger, and, with a sharp yap, hurled herself down the broad steps
and towards the spot where Stafford still stood. Donald, with a loud
bay, followed with his long stride, and Ida, startled from her reverie,
followed as far as the top of the steps, and waited.
"I might have expected the faithful watch-dog," said Stafford to
himself. "Now, what on earth am I to do? I suppose they'll spring on
me--the collie, at any rate. It's no use running; I've got to stop and
face it. What a confounded nuisance! nuisance! But it serves me right.
I've no business to be loafing about the place."
As the dogs came up, he put on that air of conciliation which we all
know, and murmuring "Good dog! All right, old chap!" tried to pacify
Donald and Bess. But they were not accustomed to intruders, especially
at that time of night, and they were legitimately furious. Dancing
round him, and displaying dazzling teeth threateningly, they drew
nearer and nearer, and they would certainly have sprung upon him; but
the girl came, not running, but quickly, down the steps and straight
across the dewy grass towards them, calling to the dogs as she came in
her clear, low voice, which had not a trace of fear in it.
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