"Don't be stupid!" cried Judith. "Of course, you're no judge of dogs, but Peter says he's just like Sister was at two months, only bigger."
Mary Spencer looked him over critically, coffee-pot in hand. "Isn't he awful homely, even for a mongrel, Judith?" she asked.
"Mongrel! What is the matter with all you folks?" exclaimed Judith. "He's no more mongrel than anybody else! Come here to your missis, you precious!" and she gathered the great pup into her lap, where he sat complacently, his legs in a hopeless tangle.
"What's his name?" asked old Johnny, mildly.
"Wolf Cub. And you wait till I'm through with him! You'll see the best trained dog in the valley, like Sioux will be the best trained bull and Buster the best trained horse. O, look, Doug!" as Douglas came in. "See what I've got!"
"I dare you to name its pedigree, Doug!"' chuckled John.
Douglas lifted the pup to the floor and ran his hands over its skull, along its back, and down its erratic legs. "Some dog, Judith! You'll have to muzzle him by the time he's six months old."
Judith smiled triumphantly. "No, I won't! Wait till you see how I train him."
"You get that from your mother, Judith. She was always gregus smart with critters," said old Johnny.
Judith laughed skeptically. "She was!" The little old man nodded his head. "I remember. I deponed that same thing to Peter the other day. How Mary could break anything when she was a girl, like you."
"Well, but Mother won't touch anything that isn't broke now!" exclaimed Judith.
