"This is gruesome," said Gissing,
pretending to be shocked. "Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I
dare say. Well, there is only one thing to do."
He picked them up carefully and carried them home.
"Quick, Fuji!" he said. "Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and
put a little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready."
He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned
on the electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The
little pads of their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot
water bottle and held it carefully to their twelve feet. Their
pink stomachs throbbed, and at first he feared they were dying.
"They must not die!" he said fiercely. "If they did, it would be
a matter for the police, and no end of trouble."
Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the
muddy footprints on the clean sheet.
"Now, Fuji," said Gissing, "do you suppose they can lap, or will
we have to pour it down?"
In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an
emergency.
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