Evening star., 1940-06-23
THIS WEEK MAGAZINE
NO PLACE
FOR a DOG
Continued from poss five


eyes, mix himself a drink and sit on
the Hepplewhite sofa, and Mertheen
would lie at his feet.
At such moments MIR. Newbridge
could dream, and strangely restful
feeling would come over him He
could look down at Mertheen and see
himself, in shirt and high-laced
boots, walking over ripe yellow fields
with rifle held expertly in his arm.
Mertheen Lev of Redjacket would be
out there. flashing through the ripe
hay. working busily. Every now and
then there would be squawk, flap
ping of wings and pheasant would
rise heavily Mr. Newbridge would
level his rifle and fire. Almost always,
in his dreams. he missed. But he would
be contemptuous of shotguns; he
would stick to his rifle. and miss away.
He didn't want to kill lot of birds.
Once MIR. Newbridge had read tales of
Misunderstanding, and he still had pro-
found thoughts on slaughtering birds.
He would sit on the Hepplewhite
sofa, and see himself. tanned. he althy,
clear-eyed, walking through those
yellow fields. with Mertheen Lev OF
Redjacket busily beating through
brush and hay for him. The sea would
be tumbling and blue. the air bracing.
Moss dripped from the trees Gust as
in the photographs of Emerald lsland)
and deer flashed away through sun
dappled woods.
In such moments, MIR. Newbridge
sometimes talked to himself And once
Mrs. Newbridge came out of her bed
room to say Grossly, For goodness
sake! Are you going crazy"
Mertheen loved MIR. Newbridge.
He liked almost everybody in Har
den House. At first, though, he didn
like O'Connor.
O'CoNNoR was one of the porters.
Mrs. Newbridge paid him dollar a
day to take Mertheen for an hours
walk through the park. She explained
to him that Mertheen was an aristo-
crat, and to be treated accordingly.
"Yes, num-" O'Connor said. and
took Mertheen around to Halloran's
Bar & Grill. where he leaned against
the bar and drank beer for the hour.
O'Connor didn't like Mertheen at
first either. Sometimes, weaving back
to the hotel, his bitterness would we'll
up and he would jerk hard on the
leash. $50 you're an aristocrat. eh?'
he'd growl IAN aristocrat. eh? Well.
show it, you dumb cluck! Show it!'
And he'd jerk harder.
A bit of radical. O'Connor. And,
in his cups. he felt very strongly about
aristocracy and capitalism. He didn't
mention this to Mrs. Newbridge. He
took it out on Mertheen.
"This nuts an aristocrat" he'd
say to the bartender, kicking Mer-
theen in the ribs IAN aristocrat, mind
your' - while Mertheen shrank away
from him - And what are we?
Scum! Scum, tell you''
absolutely" said the bartender.
Fill it up"
For the first two weeks it was like
that. The hour that Mertheen was
supposed to walk in the park was
spent lying on the floor in Halloran's
Bar & Grill, covering away from
O'Connor's boot.
Then an inebriated fellow said.
That's some dog you've got there"
IAN aristocrat," said O'Connor,
looking foggily around for the red
fanks to kick
what wouldn't do to own a dog
like that" the drunk said sentimen-
tally. "Once l had setter - but
nothing like this one"
He patted Mertheen on the head.
He murmured. What dog"
O'Connor said, "Fooey! An aristo-
cratr But he felt a twinge of loftiness.
He looked down at Mertheen. He