Free The 101 Dalmatians by Dodie Smith Page A

his nose.
    Poor Pongo! Waking up was awful, what with his sleepiness, the pain in his leg, and his horror at learning Missis had been dashing about the countryside alone. But he felt better when she had told him the news, which she did while he ate the bread and butter. And though his leg hurt, he found he could run without limping.
    â€œWhich way do we go?” he asked as they came out of the haystack.
    Missis looked worried. There were no chimneys ahead of her nose—because she was facing in exactly the opposite direction. But Pongo saw the chimneys and took her towards them. Just before they reached the kitchen-garden, Missis said, “Pongo, do dogs have spots on their right paws or on their left paws?”
    â€œThat depends on the dog,” said Pongo.
    Missis shook her head. “It’s hopeless,” she thought. “How can I depend on a thing that depends?”
    The Spaniel was waiting for them.
    â€œI’ve settled Sir Charles by the fire,” he said, “so I’ve an hour or so to spare. Come to breakfast, my dear fellow.”
    He led Pongo to the kitchen, where there was now another plate of food.
    â€œSurely it’s your breakfast, sir,” said Pongo.
    â€œHad mine with Sir Charles. Don’t as a rule take breakfast, but meeting your pretty wife gave me an appetite, so I accepted a couple of slices of bacon. Sir Charles was so pleased. Go ahead, my dear chap, I couldn’t eat another bite.”
    So Pongo ate and ate and drank and drank.
    â€œAnd now for a long sleep,” said the Spaniel.
    He led them up a back staircase and along many passages till they came to a large sunny bedroom in which was a four-poster bed. Beside it was a round basket. “Mine,” said the Spaniel, “but I never use it. Sir Charles likes me on the bed. Luckily that’s made already because John—he’s our valet—is already off for his day out. Jump up, both of you.”
    Pongo and Missis jumped onto the four-poster and relaxed in bliss.
    â€œNo one will come up here until this evening,” said the Spaniel, “because Sir Charles can’t manage the stairs until John gets back. The fire should last some hours yet—we always light it for Sir Charles to have his bath in front of it. No new-fangled plumbing in this house. Sleep well, my children.”
    The sunlight, the firelight, the tapestried walls were all so beautiful that it seemed a waste not to stay awake and enjoy them. So they did—for nearly a whole minute. The next thing they knew was that the Spaniel was gently waking them. The sun was already down, the fire dead, the room a little chilly. Pongo and Missis stretched sleepily.
    â€œWhat you need is tea,” said the Spaniel. “But first, a breath of air. Follow me.”
    There was still a faint glow from the sunset as they wandered round the wintry, tangled garden. As Pongo looked back towards the beautiful old red-brick house, the Spaniel told them it was four hundred years old and that nobody now lived there but himself, Sir Charles, and the valet, John. Most of the rooms were shut up.
    â€œBut we dust them sometimes,” he said. “That’s a very long walk for me.”
    The great window was lit by the flicker of firelight. “It’s in there we sit, mostly,” the Spaniel told them. “We should be warmer in one of the smaller rooms, but Sir Charles likes to be in the Great Hall.” A silvery bell tinkled. “There! He’s ringing for me. Tea’s ready. Now, do just as I tell you.”
    He led them indoors and then into a large high room, at the far end of which was an enormous fire. In front of it sat an old gentleman, but they could not yet see him very well because there was a screen round the back of his chair.
    â€œPlease lie down at the back of the screen,” whispered the Spaniel. “Later Sir Charles will fall asleep and you can come closer to the fire.”
    As Pongo