But its
tongue was the strangest part of it. It came and went like lightning. I
was uneasy about it, and began to bark.
"What's the matter, Joe?" said Mrs. Wood; "the pig won't hurt you."
But it wasn't the pig I was afraid of, and I kept on barking. And all
the time that strange live thing kept sticking up its head and putting
out its tongue at me, and neither of them noticed it.
"Its getting on toward six," said Mrs. Wood; "we must be going home.
Come, Mr. Maxwell."
The young man put the guinea pig in his pocket, picked up his crutches,
and we started down the sunny village street. He left his guinea pig at
his boarding house as he went by, but he said nothing about the other
creature, so I knew he did not know it was there.
I was very much taken with Mr. Maxwell. He seemed so bright and happy,
in spite of his lameness, which kept him from running about like other
young men. He looked a little older than Miss Laura, and one day, a week
or two later, when they were sitting on the veranda, I heard him tell
her that he was just nineteen. He told her, too, that his lameness made
him love animals. They never laughed at him, or slighted him, or got
impatient, because he could not walk quickly.
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