Hamlet,being one of the wisest of dogs,very quickly discovered that Mary hated him.He was not a sentimental dog,and he did not devote his time to inventing ways in which he might placate his enemy,he simply avoided her.But he could not hinder a certain cynical and ironic pleasure that he had of,so to speak,flaunting his master in her face.He clung to Jeremy more resolutely than ever,would jump up at him,lick his hands and tumble about in front of him whenever Mary was there,and then suddenly,very straight and very grave,would stare at her as though he were the most devout and obedient dog in the place.Indeed,he bore her no malice;he could afford to disregard the Marys of this world,and of women in general he had a poor opinion.But he loved to tease,and Mary was an easy prey.He had his fun with her.
After the affair of the sea-picnic,Jeremy was for some time under a cloud.It was felt that he was getting too big for anyone to manage.
It was not that he was wicked,not that he kept bad company with the boys on the farm,or was dishonest,or told lies,or stole things--no,he gave no one that kind of anxiety--but that he was developing quite unmistakably a will of his own,and had a remarkable way of doing what he wanted without being actually disobedient,which was very puzzling to his elders.Being a little in disgrace he went off more than ever by himself,always appearing again at the appointed time,but telling no one where he had been or what he had been doing.His father had no influence over him at all,whilst Uncle Samuel could make him do whatever he wanted--and this,as Aunt Amy said,"was really a pity.""It's a good thing he's going to school in September,"sighed his mother."He's getting out of women's hands."Mary longed with feverish longing to share in his adventures.If only he would tell her what he did on these walks of his.But no,only Hamlet knew.Perhaps,if he did not go with the dog he would go with her.When this idea crept into her brain she seized it and clutched it.That was all he wanted--a companion!Were Hamlet not there he would take her.Were Hamlet not there.She began to brood over this.She wandered.She considered.She shuddered at her own wickedness;she tried to drive the thoughts from her head,but they kept coming.
After all,no one need know.For a day or two Jeremy would be sorry and then he would forget.She knew the man who went round selling dogs--selling dogs and buying them.
She shuddered at her wickedness.
III
The last days of August came,and with them the last week of the holiday.Already there was a scent of autumn in the air,leaves were turning gold and red,and the evenings came cool and sudden,upon the hot summer afternoons.Mary was not very well;she had caught a cold somewhere,and existed in the irritating condition of going out one day and being held indoors the next.This upset her temper,and at night she had nightmares,in which she saw clouds of smoke crawling in at her window,snakes on the floor,and crimson flames darting at her from the ceiling.It was because she was in an abnormal condition of health that the idea of doing something with Hamlet had gained such a hold upon her.She considered the matter from every point of view.She did not want to be cruel to the dog;she supposed that after a week or two he would be quite happy with his new master,and,in any case,he had strolled in so casually upon the Cole family that he was accustomed to a wandering life.
She did not intend that anyone should know.It was to be a deep secret all of her own.
Jeremy was going to school in September,and before then she must make him friendly to her again.She saw stretching in front of her all the lonely autumn without him and her own memories of the miserable summer to make her wretched.She was an extremely sentimental little girl.
As always happens when one is meditating with a placated conscience a wicked deed,the opportunity was suddenly offered to Mary of achieving her purpose.One morning Jeremy,after refusing to listen to one of Mary's long romances,lost his temper.
"I can't stop,"he said."You bother and bother and bother.Aunt Amy says you nearly make her mad.""I don't care what Aunt Amy says,"Mary on the edge of tears replied.
"Hamlet and I are going out.And I'm sick of your silly old stories."Then he suddenly stopped and gazed at Mary,who was beginning,as usual,to weep.
"Look here,Mary,what's been the matter with you lately?You're always crying now or something.And you look at me as though I'd done something dreadful.I haven't done anything.""I--never--said you--had,"Mary gulped out.He rubbed his nose in a way that he had when he was puzzled.
"If it's anything I do,tell me.It's so silly always crying.The holidays will be over soon,and you've done nothing but cry.""You're--never--with me--now,"Mary sobbed.
"Well,I've been busy."
"You haven't.You can't be busy all--by yourself.""Oh,yes,you can."He was getting impatient."Anyway,you might let Hamlet and me alone.You're always bothering one of us.""No,I'm not."She choked an enormous sob and burst out with:"It's always Hamlet now.I wish he'd never--come.It was much nicer before."Then he lost his temper."Oh,you're a baby!I'm sick of you and your nonsense,"he cried,and stamped off.
In Mary's red-rimmed eyes,as she watched him go,determination grew.
