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Graeve, Oscar (ed.) / Delineator
Vol. 119, No. 1 (July, 1931)

Stone, Elinore Cowan
No dogs allowed,   p. 15 PDF (628.9 KB)


Page 15

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A wet tongue touched his arm
"Don't wor!"sidte ayne
"Don'Pt wo! seid yt"hed angel
ELINORE
COWAN
STONE
ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAGINV% L  WRIG1T BARNEY
A story of the love between a boy and
his dog. "He can follow me anywhere!"
boasted Binks, but the day came- -
T WAS hot, so hot that a bird protested irritably from
the branches of the maple overhead. The smell of the
blistered paint of Binks' red coaster made your nose
burn, and Binks' bad leg tingled under its brace. Every
once in a while a gust of burning wind rushed down the
valley, slamming doors and flattening newspapers against
neat hedges. There was something desperate about the
wind, as if God had started a fire, fierce beyond anything
he had intended, and was doing his best to blow it out;
but Binks knew that Mrs. Bassett, his father's house-
keeper, would say he shouldn't think in that. familiar
way of God.
After the gust had passed, everything was oppressively
still and sultry. When you lay on your stomach on the
bank and squinted off down the rolling highway, you
could see layers of heat waves shimmering above the
asphalt. Upon this phenomenon Binks commented to
Lilian Anne Olmsted, who had come down the road to
play with him. But Lilian Anne would not look.
"You can see it if you move just a little," urged Binks.
"Well, I won't," yawned Lilian Anne. "I wouldn't
move to see" then she did move. She sat bolt up-
right.
"Binkshop Vaille Tennant," she commanded, "you
make your stupid old dog stop chasing that poor cat."
Binks, also, sat bolt upright, as abruptly as if Lilian
Anne had slapped him.
"Pat O'Reilly is not a stupid dog," he said very dis-
tinctly, "and he doesn't have to stop unless he chooses."
But at that moment Pat O'Reilly did choose. He came
caracoling back, every wire hair jauntily erect. He
threw himself down at Binks' feet, sighed prodigiously.
Binks flung himself upon him, crooning endearments,
with a reproachful eye upon Lilian Anne. Pat O'Reilly
gulped and lowered his eyes to hide an overwhelming
emotion, as is the way of a small boy and his dog the
world over.
"There, you see?" Binks continued to stare accusingly
at Lilian Anne. "He understands every word I say.
He's the smartest dog in town. He's the smartest dog
in the country. He's-" Binks grew quite pale and
swallowed-"he's the smartest dog in the whole world."
"If he's so smart-" Lilian Anne disdainfully angled
a sandal upon a slim brown toe-"why doesn't he go to
school with you?"
"He does." Binks' eyes were wide with triumph. "And
he waits outside all morning for me. He'd foller me
anywhere."
"Well, I know one place he can't follow you."
( '5 )
"Where?" Binks' challenge crackled, but his gray
eyes were a bit anxious.
"To Heaven."
"Huh! I guess he can, too." But Binks looked startled,
and his arm tightened around Pat O'Reilly.
"Well, I guess he can't. You don't suppose God wants
Heaven all messed up with mangy Irish terriers, do you?"
Binks considered this hideous possibility for a moment.
"Then he's not," he announced at length, "the kind of
God I would choose."
He caught his breath as he spoke, but his eyes were
very dark and steady in his white face.
"Oh, Binks, what you said!" Lilian Anne was rigid
with horror. "You don't choose God; He chooses you,
if you love Him, and keep your heart pure, and 'bey
His laws." Lilian Anne was quite carried away by her
evangelical fervor. "God is love. You ought to-"
"Not if he doesn't love Pat O'Reilly, He isn't,"
enunciated Binks with grim finality.
"You wicked boy! God will punish you just the way
He punished that Jones boy for going swimming on
Sunday."
"He did not! I don't believe God ever let Eddie Jones
drown just because he went swimming on Sunday. I
don't believe God's like that."
"Well, I know He is." Lilian Anne spoke with a
little superior smile that Binks found vaguely reminis-
cent. Lilian Anne was always "dressing up" in the tones
and manners of her elders. "If you want to be saved,
you must repent your sins and be -"
"W    ELL, Pat O'Reilly always repents. Why, just
yesterday-you know how he hates to be bathed
-well, just yesterday, after he ate up Mrs. Bassett's
knitting, he went down and sat in his tub and barked
and barked for someone to come and bathe him."
Lilian Anne waved this aside.
"Mark my words," she pursued didactically-ah, now
Binks knew who it was Lilian Anne was "dressing up" in
today. It was Mrs. Bassett. Mrs. Bassett said, "Mark
my words" in just that tone, and she always spoke with
that air of authority when she mentioned God.
There were sucking noises in the hot asphalt behind
them, and a car drew up at the curb. A lady leaned out
of the driver's seat. She was all in white and looked
deliciously cool and, as always, deliciously lovely. She
was Lilian Anne's mother. Binks had often thought
that she was exactly what you would choose in a mother
if you were lucky enough to have one.
"Lilian Anne," she said-and her voice, too, was
deliciously cool and soft-"run right home. Mary
shouldn't have let you come out here in this heat. I de-
clare, she gets more irresponsible every day. And, Binks,
Mrs. Bassett has been looking everywhere for you. It's
time for your glass of milk and your nap."
She smiled her lovely smile at Binks, and he scrambled
to his feet and beamed, in spite of the loathsome words
"milk" and "nap." Then he stood on his good leg and
wriggled his elbows as he always (Turn to page 52)
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