Yet Satan was not entirely discouraged. If he could not
steal the bread he would beg for it. It made Joan pause in her destruction
of the edibles, not to watch openly, for an instinct told her that the
thing to do was to note these by-plays from the corner of one's eye, as
Daddy Dan did, and swallow the ripples of mirth that came tickling in the
throat. She knew perfectly well that Satan would have it in the end, for of
all living things not even Munner had such power over Dan as the black
stallion. He maneuvered adroitly. First he circled the table and stood
opposite the master, begging with his eyes, but Dan looked fixedly down at
the rock until an impatient whinny called up his eyes. Then he pretended
the most absolute surprise.
"Why, Satan, you old scoundrel, what are you doin' over there? Get back
where you belong?"
He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder and Satan glided around the rock
and stood once more behind Dan.
"Manners?" continued Dan. "You ain't got 'em. You'll be tryin' to sit down
at the table with me, pretty soon." He concluded: "But I'll teach you one
of these days, and you'll smart for a week.
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