E. Nesbit

“ The Aunt and her pet Tabbies all day, a sound sleep, an early waking, a heavenly meeting with Alcibiades at the back door, the restoring of him to his master. And every day the chain grew heavier, the walks longer, the talks more interesting and more intimate.
It was very wrong, of course, but what was the girl to do? You cannot be rude to a man who is saving your dog, your darling, from rat-poisons, rivers and ropes. And if dogs will break chains, why—so will girls. ”

“ In parting or sorrow we should always seek to distract the mind, should we not, dear Mrs Biddle?”
“The young are all too easily distracted by the shows of this world,” said dear Mrs Biddle heavily.
And several ladies murmured approval.
“But you can’t exactly call a church bazaar the shows of this world, can you?” urged the Aunt, sitting very upright, all black and beady.
“It’s the thin end of the Rubicon sometimes,” said Mrs Biddle.
“Then why——” began the youngest Tabby—and then the door bell rang, and every one said: “Here she is!” ”

“ Shouldn’t wonder if she’s dull too, poor little girl.”
Then he went home and cut a glove in pieces and sewed the pieces together, slowly but solidly as soldiers and sailors do sew. So that when, two nights later, the claws and the voice of Alcibiades roused Judy from sleep—her aunt most fortunately slept on the other side of the house—she found, after the first rapturous hug of reunion, a something under the hand that caressed the neck of Alcibiades.
The gaslight in her own room defined the something as a bag of leather, the tan leather of which gentlemen’s gloves are made. ”

“ The Aunt was enchanted, but, on the subject of Alcibiades, adamant.
And now it was the day of the bazaar. Judy had run wires along the wall of the schoolroom behind her Aunt’s stall, and from it hung the best of the sketches. She had arranged the stall herself, glorifying it with the Eastern shawls and draperies that her father had sent her from India. It did far outshine any other stall, even that of Lady Bates, the wife of the tallow Knight. The Aunt was really grateful—truly appreciative. But her mind was made up about the “cur.”
“If it really is worth anything we’ll sell it. ”

“ ALCIBIADES “Oh, do let me have him in the carriage with me; he won’t hurt any one, he’s a perfect angel.”
“Angels like him travels in the dog-box,” said the porter.
Judy ended an agonised search for her pocket. ”

“ Judy made a den for herself and Alcibiades in the little breakfast room. There was no painting light—so she looked out a handful of the sketches that she had done last summer and framed them. Most of her time she spent in writing to her friends to know whether any one could take care of a darling dog, who was a perfect angel. ”

“ Her smile was more tired than she knew.
“I suppose I do,” he said; “one does at bazaars, don’t you know.”
“Do you want a Christmas present?” asked Judy, businesslike; “if so, and if you will tell me what kind of relation you want it for, perhaps I can find something that they’d like.”
“Could you? Now, that is really good. I want things for two aunts, three cousins, a little sister, and my mother—but I needn’t get hers here unless you’ve got something you think really—By Jove!”—his eyes had caught the sketches—“are those for sale?”
“That is rather the idea,” said Judy. ”

“ Everybody has to give Christmas presents to all their relations. You see! the things are going like wildfire.”
“Yes, Aunt,” said Judy. Alcibiades took advantage of the momentary calm to lick her hand exhaustively. Judy wondered wearily what had become of the man, the only man in that cheerless assembly who looked as though he liked dogs. ”

“ She couldn’t help it. A man in the Service. One who had been quartered at Maidstone, her own dear Maidstone. He was no longer a stranger.
“Yes,” he said; “beastly bore. But I shall be all right in two or three months ”