"You see," suggested her mother, "that Black Bart would eat up the poor
little puppy if you went now with him."
At this alarming thought, Joan shrank away from Bart and when he followed
her, anxiously, she cried: "Go away! Bad dog! Bad Bart!"
He caught the edge of her dress and drew back toward the door, and this
threw Joan into a sudden panic. She struck Bart across his wrinkled
forehead.
"Go away!" he slunk back, snarling at the puppy.
"Go back to Daddy Dan." Then, as he pricked his ears, still growling like
distant thunder: "Go tell Daddy Dan that Joan has to stay here a while.
Munner, how long?"
"Maybe a week, dear."
"A whole week?" she cried, dismayed.
"Perhaps only one or two or three days," said Kate.
Some of her tenseness was leaving as she saw victory once more inclining to
her standards.
"One, two, five days," counted Joan, "and then come for me again. Tell
Daddy Dan that, Bart."
His eyes left her and wandered around the room, lingering for a vicious
instant on the face of each, then he backed toward the door.
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