"Tails it is. I stay," he said presently. And with a swift movement
he reached out and lightly patted my hand with the coin in it.
"Well, it's decided. You have got me for a next-door neighbor for a
while longer, Miss Smith. No, don't go yet."
So I stayed, who would have stayed in the Pit to be near him, or
walked out of heaven to follow him, had he called me.
"Do you know," he spoke in a plaintive voice--"that I haven't had
any lunch? I forgot to go home for lunch! Boris, go get me something
to eat, old chap!"
Boris hung out a tongue like a flag, looked in his man's eyes, and
vanished, running as only the thoroughbred wolf-hound can run.
"I am so tired! Should you mind if I kept my dog's place warm at
your feet, Miss Smith?" And he stretched his long length on the
pine-needles, his hands under his head, his face upturned.
"I wish I had a pillow!" he complained.
I scooped up an armful of the pine-needles, while he watched me
lazily, and packed it over and between the roots of the pine-tree.
"You're a Sister of Charity," said he, gratefully. "But I can't
afford to scratch my neck." And coolly he took a fold of my brown
silk skirt, patted it over the straw, and with a sigh of
satisfaction rested his head upon it.
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