________________________________________________
_ Clematis frowned and sneezed as the infinitesimal
particles of sachet powder settled in
the lining of his nose. He became serious, and
was conscious of a growing feeling of dislike; he
began to be upset over the whole matter. But
his conscience compelled him to persist in his
attempt to solve the mystery; and also he remembered
that one should be courteous, no matter
what some other thing chooses to be. Hence he
sought to place his nose in contact with Flopit's,
for he had perceived on the front of the
mysterious stranger a buttony something which
might possibly be a nose.
Flopit evaded the contact. He felt that he
had endured about enough from this Apache, and
that it was nearly time to destroy him. Having
no experience of battle, save with bedroom
slippers and lace handkerchiefs, Flopit had little
doubt of his powers as a warrior. Betrayed by
his majestic self-importance, he had not the
remotest idea that he was small. Usually he saw
the world from a window, or from the seat of
an automobile, or over his mistress's arm. He
looked down on all dogs, thought them ruffianly,
despised them; and it is the miraculous truth
that not only was he unaware that he was
small, but he did not even know that he was a
dog, himself. He did not think about himself in
that way.
From these various ignorances of his sprang
his astonishing, his incredible, valor. Clematis,
with head lowered close to Flopit's, perceived
something peering at him from beneath the
tangled curtain of cottony, violet-scented stuff
which seemed to be the upper part of Flopit's
face. It was Flopit's eye, a red-rimmed eye and
sore--and so demoniacally malignant that Clematis,
indescribably startled, would have withdrawn
his own countenance at once--but it was
too late. With a fearful oath Flopit sprang
upward and annexed himself to the under lip of the
horrified Clematis.
Horror gave place to indignation instantly; and
as Miss Parcher and her guest turned, screaming,
Clematis's self-command went all to pieces.
Miss Parcher became faint and leaned against
the hedge along which they had been passing, but
her visitor continued to scream, while Mr. Watson
endeavored to kick Clematis without ruining
Flopit--a difficult matter.
Flopit was baresark from the first, and the
mystery is where he learned the dog-cursing that
he did. In spite of the David-and-Goliath difference
in size it would be less than justice to deny
that a very fair dog-fight took place. It was so
animated, in truth, that the one expert in such
matters who was present found himself warmly
interested. Genesis relieved himself of the burden
of the wash-tub upon his back, dropped the
handle of that other in which he had a half-
interest, and watched the combat; his mouth,
like his eyes, wide open in simple pleasure.
He was not destined to enjoy the spectacle to
the uttermost; a furious young person struck
him a frantic, though harmless, blow with a pink
parasol.
``You stop them!'' she screamed. ``You make
that horrible dog stop, or I'll have you arrested!''
Genesis rushed forward.
``You CLEM!'' he shouted.
And instantly Clematis was but a whitish and
brownish streak along the hedge. He ran like a
dog in a moving picture when they speed the
film, and he shot from sight, once more, round
the corner, while Flopit, still cursing, was seized
and squeezed in his mistress's embrace.
But she was not satisfied. ``Where's that
laundryman with the tin thing on his head?'' she
demanded. ``He ought to be arrested for having
such a dog. It's HIS dog, isn't it? Where is
he?''
Genesis turned and looked round about the
horizon, mystified. William Sylvanus Baxter and
the clothes-boiler had disappeared from sight.
``If he owns that dog,'' asserted the still furious
owner of Flopit, ``I WILL have him arrested.''
Where is he? Where is that laundryman?''
``Why, he,'' Genesis began slowly, ``HE ain' no
laundrym--'' He came to an uncertain pause.
If she chose to assume, with quick feminine intuition,
that the dog was William's and that William
was a laundryman, it was not Genesis's place to
enlighten her. `` 'Tic'larly,'' he reflected, ``since
she talk so free about gittin' people 'rested!''
He became aware that William had squirmed
through the hedge and now lay prostrate on the
other side of it, but this, likewise, was something
within neither his duty nor his inclination to
reveal.
``Thishere laundryman,'' said Genesis, resuming--
``thishere laundryman what own the dog,
I reckon he mus' hopped on 'at street-car what
went by.''
``Well, he OUGHT to be arrested!'' she said, and,
pressing her cheek to Flopit's, she changed her
tone. ``Izzum's ickle heart a-beatin' so floppity!
Um's own mumsy make ums all right, um's
p'eshus Flopit!'
Then with the consoling Miss Parcher's arm
about her, and Mr. Watson even more dazzled
with love than when he had first met her, some
three hours past, she made her way between
the tubs, and passed on down the street. Not
till the three (and Flopit) were out of sight
did William come forth from the hedge.
``Hi yah!'' exclaimed Genesis. `` 'At lady go'n a
'rest ev'y man what own a dog, 'f she had her
way!''
But William spoke no word.
In silence, then, they resumed their burdens
and their journey. Clematis was waiting for
them at the corner ahead. _
Read next: CHAPTER VII. MR. BAXTER'S EVENING CLOTHES
Read previous: CHAPTER V. SORROWS WITHIN A BOILER
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