For a woman who disliked animals,
but liked getting her own way under a halo of unselfishness, Mrs.
Strudwarden had managed rather well.
"Louis is dead," was the curt information that greeted Lena on her return
from her luncheon party.
"Louis _dead_!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, he flew at the butcher-boy and bit him, and he bit me, too, when I
tried to get him off, so I had to have him destroyed. You warned me that
he snapped, but you didn't tell me that he was downright dangerous. I
shall have to pay the boy something heavy by way of compensation, so you
will have to go without those buckles that you wanted to have for Easter;
also I shall have to go to Vienna to consult Dr. Schroeder, who is a
specialist on dog-bites, and you will have to come too. I have sent what
remains of Louis to Rowland Ward to be stuffed; that will be my Easter
gift to you instead of the buckles. For Heaven's sake, Lena, weep, if
you really feel it so much; anything would be better than standing there
staring as if you thought I had lost my reason."
Lena Strudwarden did not weep, but her attempt at laughing was an
unmistakable failure.
THEGUESTS
"The landscape seen from our windows is certainly charming," said
Annabel; "those cherry orchards and green meadows, and the river winding
along the valley, and the church tower peeping out among the elms, they
all make a most effective picture.
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