Chapter I

Master was away all the afternoon; it was very dull. He did not come back in the evening. Nigger was uneasy. Once during the night he slipped his chain and went in search.

“Perhaps he’ll be in when I get back,” he thought hopefully.

And later: “He’s sure to be here for breakfast.”

But he wasn’t.

Nigger searched every room and sniffed the furniture. No master. Nigger was lonely. He cuddled up on the forbidden cushions of the garden-seat with Simonette, waiting for master to come whizzing round the corner. He opened an eye at a noisy cycle, and cocked his ear for a motor. He trotted up the drive, he wheeled sharply round to the stables, he cut back, barking, to master’s room. No master.

After a little dejected self-examination Nigger paid a rapid visit to several rabbit-holes. Whatever the strain, duty must be done. He came back to be comforted.

“I know,” he yapped joyously, “he’s afraid to come home; he’s hiding behind a tree.”

But he wasn’t.

“Then I darn well hope,” snapped Nigger, “that they’ll shut him up for a day when he does turn up.” He sighed heavily.

But they didn’t. They shut Nigger up instead.