The explanation was fortunately satisfactory; but then Anne’s father and mother seldom objected to anything unless it was unkind, dangerous, or too expensive.
In a quarter of an hour or so back came the pair, evidently the best of friends, Waddles allowing Cadence not only to drink from his dish, but to take a nicely ripened beef bone that he had partly buried under the big apple tree. This was a wonderful bit of condescension, as it is against the rules of Dogtown to dig up another’s bone, at least when the other is looking, and the offence is punishable with a ki-yi-ing and a real bite.
“Mistress,” said Waddles, behind his paw as it were, “that is a very beautiful young lady; I will gladly share my bones with her, and that is something that I have never done before,” which was perfectly true; for Waddles, besides being very strict about food etiquette, thought a good deal about what he ate.
The next morning when Anne came downstairs Cadence was lying on the steps with her back to the house. Anne called her and clapped her hands together, but she did not stir, yet the moment Anne’s footsteps jarred the boards Cadence turned and came to her side.
Then the truth flashed upon Anne, the little hound was neither stupid nor disobedient, but almost stone deaf. She could not hear the voice, but felt the sound as it were from the footstep.
“There, I told Miss Jule that you weren’t wicked, but that you couldn’t understand all that shouting and to-heeling, you dear little abused thing. Now I’ll know exactly how to treat you and what to expect.” And Anne held the pretty, soft paws in one hand while she lifted the dog’s face so that it might _see_ what she said.
Truly, then, Cadence understood once and for all, and when puzzled always looked in her mistress’s face.
When Miss Jule heard the story, she questioned all at the Horse Farm and about the Kennels closely, and found that once, when Cadence was a pup of less than a year, a gun had burst quite close to her head.
“Now,” said Anne, triumphantly, “you see why she was gun shy, and deaf, and everything. You know, Miss Jule, animals are hardly ever bad; it’s mostly something what we’ve done ourselves, and it’s being a kennel dog, too. You see you can never be really intimate with them, and know their troubles as I do Waddles.”