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So I was carried to the car. I could have walked, but I had an idea that I had better not. I had made my hit as a crippled dog, and a crippled dog I intended to remain till things got more settled down.

The chauffeur started the car off again. What with the shock I had had and the luxury of riding in a motor-car, I was a little distrait, and I could not say how far we went. But it must have been miles and miles, for it seemed a long time afterwards that we stopped at the biggest house I have ever seen. There were smooth lawns and flower-beds, and men in overalls, and fountains and trees, and, away to the right, kennels with about a million dogs in them, all pushing their noses through the bars and shouting. They all wanted to know who I was and what prizes I had won, and then I realized that I was moving in high society.

I let the small boy pick me up and carry me into the house, though it was all he could do, poor kid, for I was some weight. He staggered up the steps and along a great hall, and then let me flop on the carpet of the most beautiful room you ever saw. The carpet was a yard thick.

There was a woman sitting in a chair, and as soon as she saw me she gave a shriek.

‘I told Master Peter you would not be pleased, m’lady,’ said the nurse, who seemed to have taken a positive dislike to me, ‘but he would bring the nasty brute home.’

‘He’s not a nasty brute, mother. He’s my dog, and his name’s Fido. John ran over him in the car, and I brought him home to live with us. I love him.’

This seemed to make an impression. Peter’s mother looked as if she were weakening.

‘But, Peter, dear, I don’t know what your father will say. He’s so particular about dogs. All his dogs are prize-winners, pedigree dogs. This is such a mongrel.’

‘A nasty, rough, ugly, common dog, m’lady,’ said the nurse, sticking her oar in in an absolutely uncalled-for way.

Just then a man came into the room.

‘What on earth?’ he said, catching sight of me.

‘It’s a dog Peter has brought home. He says he wants to keep him.’

‘I’m going to keep him,’ corrected Peter firmly.

I do like a child that knows his own mind. I was getting fonder of Peter every minute. I reached up and licked his hand.

‘See! He knows he’s my dog, don’t you, Fido? He licked me.’

‘But, Peter, he looks so fierce.’ This, unfortunately, is true. I do look fierce. It is rather a misfortune for a perfectly peaceful dog. ‘I’m sure it’s not safe your having him.’

‘He’s my dog, and his name’s Fido. I am going to tell cook to give him a bone.’

His mother looked at his father, who gave rather a nasty laugh.

‘My dear Helen,’ he said, ‘ever since Peter was born, ten years ago, he has not asked for a single thing, to the best of my recollection, which he has not got. Let us be consistent. I don’t approve of this caricature of a dog, but if Peter wants him, I suppose he must have him.’

‘Very well. But the first sign of viciousness he shows, he shall be shot. He makes me nervous.’

So they left it at that, and I went off with Peter to get my bone.

After lunch, he took me to the kennels to introduce me to the other dogs. I had to go, but I knew it would not be pleasant, and it wasn’t. Any dog will tell you what these prize-ribbon dogs are like. Their heads are so swelled they have to go into their kennels backwards.

It was just as I had expected. There were mastiffs, terriers, poodles, spaniels, bulldogs, sheepdogs, and every other kind of dog you can imagine, all prize-winners at a hundred shows, and every single dog in the place just shoved his head back and laughed himself sick. I never felt so small in my life, and I was glad when it was over and Peter took me off to the stables.