Jack was impossible, and would never be allowed to follow me
again. So I sternly said and so thought, but when the time
came and I found him waiting for me his brown eyes bright with
joyful anticipation, I could not scowl at him and thunder out
No! I could not help putting myself in his place. For here
he was, a dog of boundless energy who must exercise his powers
or be miserable, with nothing in the village for him except to
witness the not very exciting activities of others; and that,
I dscovered, had been his life. He was mad to do something,
and because there was nothing for him to do his time was
mostly spent in going about the village to keep an eye on
the movements of the people, especially of those who did
the work, always with the hope that his services might be
required in some way by some one. He was grateful for the
smallest crumbs, so to speak. House-work and work about the
house--milking, feeding the pigs and so on--did not interest
him, nor would he attend the labourers in the fields. Harvest
time would make a difference; now it was ploughing, sowing,
and hoeing, with nothing for Jack. But he was always down at
the fishing cove to see the boats go out or come in and join
in the excitement when there was a good catch. It was still
better when the boat went with provisions to the lighthouse,
or to relieve the keeper, for then Jack would go too and if
they would not have him he would plunge into the waves and
swim after it until the sails were hoisted and it flew like a
great gull from him and he was compelled to swim back to land.
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