Dyed! What a spiteful goose Cora Wellington was!
Then Durland came down the steps.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"We've been rescuing a dog," said Anthony. "Miss--Exeter and I." So far he knew no other name for her.
Durland smiled at him above her head, as much as to say, "Could anything be more ridiculously attaching than women are--this woman in particular?" And Anthony smiled back in a similar manner.
Then there was a shout, and Antonia, having finished her supper and exhausted at least for the moment Mr. Albertson's narrative powers, came flying down the steps, eager to know why it was that Miss Exeter and her uncle had been in swimming with their clothes on. When explained, it appeared to her the most natural thing in the world.
"Isn't he sweet?" she said, when she had heard the story. "I think Horatius would be a good name for him--on account of 'Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, struggle through such a raging flood'--you know. Do you think mother will let us keep him? Or do you want to keep him, Miss Exeter? Oh, dear, I suppose you do!"
"No, I can't," said Pearl, with regret. "I'd like to, but Alfred hates