Then, after due
choking and whirring, our own clock struck, and we counted the strokes
quite clearly--one! two! three! four! Then we got Kitty's shawl once
more, and stole out into the backyard. We ran to our old place, and
peeped, but could see nothing.
"'We'd better get up on to the wall,' I said; and with some difficulty
and distress from rubbing her bare knees against the cold stone, and
getting the snow up her sleeves, Patty got on to the coping of the
little wall. I was just struggling after her, when something warm and
something cold coming suddenly against the bare calves of my legs made
me shriek with fright. I came down 'with a run' and bruised my knees,
my elbows, and my chin; and the snow that hadn't gone up Patty's
sleeves went down my neck. Then I found that the cold thing was a dog's
nose and the warm thing was his tongue; and Patty cried from her post
of observation, 'It's Father Christmas's dog and he's licking your
legs.'
"It really was the dirty little brown and white spaniel, and he
persisted in licking me, and jumping on me, and making curious little
noises, that must have meant something if one had known his language. I
was rather harassed at the moment. My legs were sore, I was a little
afraid of the dog, and Patty was very much afraid of sitting on the
wall without me.
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