me? And lest you should shuffle
in your reply I shall mention a notable passage that has come to my
ears.

"As thus, that David having heard a horrid word in the street, uttered
it with unction in the home. That the mother threatened corporal
punishment, whereat the father tremblingly intervened. That David
continuing to rejoice exceedingly in his word, the father spoke darkly
of a cane, but the mother rushed between the combatants. That the
problematical chastisement became to David an object of romantic
interest. That this darkened the happy home. That casting from his
path a weeping mother, the goaded father at last dashed from the house
yelling that he was away to buy a cane. That he merely walked the
streets white to the lips because of the terror David must now be
feeling. And that when he returned, it was David radiant with hope who
opened the door and then burst into tears because there was no cane.
Truly, ma'am, you are a fitting person to tax me with want of severity.
Rather should you be giving thanks that it is not you I am comparing
with Porthos.

"But to make an end of this comparison, I mention that Porthos is ever
wishful to express gratitude for my kindness to him, so that looking
up from my book I see his mournful eyes fixed upon me with a passionate
attachment, and then I know that the well-nigh unbearable sadness which
comes into the face of dogs is because they cannot say Thank you to
their masters. Whereas David takes my kindness as his right. But for
this, while I should chide him I cannot do so, for of all the ways David
has of making me to love him the most poignant is that he expects it of
me as a matter of course. David is all for fun, but none may plumb the
depths of Porthos. Nevertheless I am most nearly doing so when I lie
down beside him on the floor and he puts an arm about my neck. On my
soul, ma'am, a protecting arm. At such times it is as if each of us knew
what was the want of the other.

"Thus weighing Porthos with David it were hard to tell which is the
worthier. Wherefore do you keep your boy while I keep my dog, and so we
shall both be pleased."

XXI. William Paterson

We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling me about the
fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofa listening, as one may
say. It is his favourite place of a dull day, and under him were some
sheets of newspaper, which I spread there at such times to deceive my
housekeeper, who thinks