muffled by intervening doors and walls, the clamor of quarreling dogs. But these things did not penetrate his consciousness until a new and louder disturbance broke out somewhere below. 

A dog barked, snarling and angry; another yelped. The two joined their voices in an angry tumult of sound. Then a woman’s voice, the voice of Mrs. Moody, shouted abuse, and a door opened and cries and barks and snarls redoubled. 

Wint lifted his head, in sudden recognition. He heard the thud of some missile that had missed its mark and clattered against the floor; and then he heard the scramble of hard-toed feet racing up the stairs, and the snuffing of eager nostrils. His eyes lighted softly; and he called: “Muldoon!” 

There was a yelp of delight and a new scuffle of feet, and Muldoon plunged in through the open door and was all over Wint in a delirious joy at this reunion. The dog leaped up on Wint’s knees; it tried to climb on his shoulders; its tongue sought to caress his cheeks; it nipped his hands lovingly; and all the time it whined a low whine of happiness. Wint, cuffing the hard and eager head, smiled in spite of himself at the dog’s caresses; he smiled, and caught Muldoon by the ears and held him away and shook him affectionately. 

“You, dog!” he scolded. “How did you come here? Eh, you?” 

Muldoon wriggled in a desperate effort to explain; and then he stiffened in Wint’s arms, and turned toward the door with hackles rising. Wint looked that way and saw Mrs. Moody, panting with the zeal of her pursuit. The virago came in; she bore a stick of firewood in one harsh hand; she made for Muldoon, and her old lips dripped blistering abuse. 

Wint drew Muldoon close in his arms and held up a protesting hand. “Wait a minute, wait a minute!” he warned her. “What’s the matter?” 

She smiled mirthlessly, brandishing her billet and reaching for Muldoon’s scruff. “I’m a-goin’ to whale that pup, deary,” she told Wint. “He’s been around here all morning.” 

Wint hugged Muldoon closer. “Of course,” he said, “he knew I was here.” 

She looked puzzled. “He ain’t your’n, is he?” 

“Sure,” Wint told her. “He’s some dog, too.” 

The woman’s anger vanished. “Well, say now, if I’d a knowed that….” She laughed, her desolately beautiful false teeth glistening between her wrinkled lips. “He’s drove my dog 

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