Part Two - In Aunt Hetty's Garden

"Mr. Welles is interested in gardens and wants to look at yours."

"Not much to look at," said the old lady uncompromisingly.

"I don't want to look at a garden!" clamored little Mark, outraged at
the idea. "I want to be let go up to Aunt Hetty's yattic where the sword
and 'pinning-wheel are."

"Would all you children like that best?" asked Marise.

Their old kinswoman answered for them, "You'd better believe they would.
You always did yourself. Run along, now, children, and don't fall on the
attic stairs and hurt yourselves on the wool-hetchels."

The fox-terrier, who had hung in an anguish of uncertainty and hope and
fear on the incomprehensible words passing between little Mark and the
grown-ups, perceiving now that the children ran clattering towards the
stairs, took a few agitated steps after them, and ran back to Marise,
shivering, begging with his eyes, in a wriggling terror lest he be
forbidden to follow them into the fun. Marise motioned him along up the
stairs, saying with a laughing, indulgent, amused accent, "Yes, yes,
poor Médor, you can go along with the children if you want to."

The steel sinews of the dog's legs stretched taut on the instant, in a
great bound of relief. He whirled with a ludicrous and undignified
haste, slipping, his toe-nails clicking on the bare floor, tore across
the room and dashed up the stairs, drunk with joy.