"
"Thank you for your enthusiastic hospitality," said Average Jones so
dryly that a smile relaxed the girl's troubled face. "With that
encouragement we'll go on. What is your uncle's attitude toward the
dog?"
"Almost what you might call ingratiating. But Peter Paul--that's my
dog's name, you know--doesn't take to uncle. He's a crotchety old
doggie."
"He's a wise old doggie," amended the other, with emphasis. "Has
your uncle taken him out, at all?"
"Once he tried to. I met them at the corner. All four of Peter
Paul's poor old fat legs were braced, and he was hauling back as
hard as he could against the leash."
"And the occurrence didn't strike you as peculiar?"
"Well, not then."
"When does your uncle give up this house?"
"At the end of the week. Uncle and aunt leave for Europe."
"Then let me suggest again that you and Peter Paul go at once."
Miss Graham pondered. "That would mean explanations and a quarrel,
and more strain for auntie, who is nervous enough, anyway. No, I
can't do that.
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