Before Anne went out she ran to the hall table to take one more look at something very precious that had come that afternoon--her camera, so long wished for, had actually arrived, and she was all eagerness for daylight that she might use it, as she had watched her father at his work so often that she felt as if she really knew how. He had insisted that she begin with plates instead of films, that she might the more easily develop her pictures and thus discover her own mistakes, so the camera was a substantial four by five instrument in a leather-covered case, with a light tripod for time work. Waddles lay on the outer edge of the bearskin rug, Happy being next the fire, everything was quiet except her little whimpering snore and the crickets that chanted outside, led, it seemed, by one persistent individual in the wood-box. Suddenly Happy gave a groan, and began to shiver and cry in her sleep. Up started Waddles, stumbled over her before he understood from where the noise came, and then gave her a little shake, saying, in a language that, deaf though she was, she understood: “Wake up. What is the matter? You were so greedy about that cold sausage at supper that I knew you’d have trouble.” Happy gave a despairing kick or two, then rolled over, and, gaining her feet, sniffed once or twice, her back bristling, and then opened her eyes. “I thought that I was a kennel dog again,” she said with a little gasp, settling herself close by Waddles, as if craving protection from such a catastrophe, and scratching an ear to be sure that she was herself. “I never lived in a kennel, though when I was very young I used to wish I did. The Hilltop dogs got lots to eat and I didn’t.” “Why didn’t you like it?” asked Waddles, who, having thoroughly waked up, was in the mood for a lazy, comfortable chat. “Ting, ting, ting, bur-r-r,” said the telephone bell by the door, Waddles jumped up bristling, and barked his yap, yap, “treed-cat” bark at it; he always regarded the telephone as a personal insult, and as he did not quite fathom its workings or understand a voice unattached to a person he was not a little afraid of it, a fact he managed to conceal by bluster. Through it he heard his mistress’s voice when she was at Miss Jule’s and wanted to ask if she might stay to dinner or supper, but he could get no scent of her whereabouts. Also he could hear the master talking to the fishman, whose odour was _oban_ and forbidden of good dogs, and was his chief enemy besides, having dared to flick his whip at him. Was it not aggravating to hear those rasping tones without having a chance to pretend to nip his heels or bark his bony horse into a gallop? Now that there was no one at home to take down the magic tube that released the evil spirit, he could take his revenge and bark his mind, which he did until he was hoarse.