Page 27 of Recollection


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“I wouldn’t have if you’d told me what you were up to. I was worried.”

“That doesn’t mean you can spy on me. Seriously, Arthur, you can’t—” I break off because the dog, evidently picking up the indignation in my tone, starts growling at Arthur again. “It’s fine, fella. He’s not going to hurt me.” I extend a hand, and the dog runs over to be petted.

Arthur stands up, wincing as he straightens.

“Did you hurt yourself?” I ask, distracted from my annoyance by concern that the fall actually injured him.

“No.” He’s muttering but doesn’t look genuinely angry. Mostly just grumpy. “I’m simply too old to be knocked to the ground by a militant canine.”

“He’s not militant. He hasn’t been aggressive at all, and he didn’t bite you. He was trying to protect me because you were sneaking around.”

Arthur makes a face and an ineffective attempt to wipe some of the mud off the rear of his pants.

Something about the combination of his grumpiness and the mess of his clothes, so incongruous to his typical cultured sophistication, hits me just then. I choke on a giggle.

He narrows his eyes even more. He’s smug and annoyed and covered with mud.

It’s hopeless then. I burst into helpless laughter.

“Seriously?” he asks dryly.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

The dog wags his tail excitedly and evidently decides this means Arthur isn’t an enemy. He walks over to nose one of Arthur’s hands.

I see Arthur give the dog a quick pet before he grumbles, “Now you try to make up to me? After you knock me over in the mud?”

“He didn’t mean to.”

“I think that’s exactly what he meant to do.” Arthur sighs and shakes his head. “Well, come on. I need to get cleaned up, and this dog needs it even more than me.”

“So he can come inside?”

“I have no doubt I’m going to regret it, but yes, he can come inside.”










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