Mr. Scott had promised not to let the dog out of his arms, but if he
had been better acquainted with Tag he would never have made such a
rash promise. As the gentleman followed the nurse into the ward, the
dog's eyes flashed a swift glance over the long line of cots, and the
next instant something dark went flying down the room and up on to
that last cot in the row, and there was Tag licking his master's face
and hands, and wagging his tail, and barking like mad.
"Dear me!" exclaimed the nurse, running toward the corner. "This will
never do. He'll drive the patients into fits! Why didn't you keep hold
of him?"
She threw the question back in a reproachful tone to Mr. Scott.
He laughed a little as he answered, "If you will try to pick him up
now and hold him, you will understand why."
Even as he spoke, the nurse was making an attempt to capture and
silence the noisy little fellow. She might as well have tried to pick
up a ball of quicksilver. Tag slipped through her fingers like an eel,
scurrying from one end of the cot to the other, and barking excitedly
all the time.
"Can't you stop him, Theodore?" exclaimed Mr. Scott, as he reached the
corner where the boy lay.
"Here, Tag, lie down and be still," cried the boy, and with one last
defiant yap at the nurse, Tag nosed aside the bedclothes and snuggled
down beside his master with a sigh of glad content.
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