CHAPTER XII. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. He should never sufficiently be able to regret the return which they had made to her. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. The trio finally arrived home at 3:48 in the morning, and she saw lights that indicated the awareness of some of the nosier Beck neighbors.
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