Hotel For Dogs Read Free Page B

hanging heavy outside the window. “I didn’t even know you were home.”
    Sliding the paper into her notebook, she got up and stretched. She felt good, as though all the unhappiness that had been inside her had drained off onto that sheet of paper. Tossing the notebook back onto the table, she left the room and went downstairs.
    It began to rain as she set the table for dinner. It started as just a sprinkle, the lightest, slightest sound, like a gentle tap-tap-tap on the roof. By the time she had the napkins and silverware on, however, the tapping had increased to a roar.
    “I’d better check the upstairs windows,” Bruce said and went up to the second floor. “Dad’s coming,” he called down a moment later. “I can see his car.”
    “I hope he took an umbrella with him,” Mrs. Walker called from the kitchen, where she was helping Aunt Alice with the mashed potatoes.
    The drum of the rain drowned out the sound of the car in the driveway, but they all heard Mr. Walker’s feet as they thudded on the porch steps. Andi left the table and ran to open the door for him.
    He came in dripping and shaking himself the way he would have in the brick hallway back home. Then he realized what he was doing and said, “Oh, my gosh, the rugs!”
    “Quick — get newspapers! A bath mat! Bruce, run for some towels!” Aunt Alice came fluttering out of the kitchen to dab helplessly with the corner of a dish towel at the dampness on the snowy carpet.
    Behind her father, Andi saw the water falling in a solid sheet as heavy and loud as a waterfall. Mr. Walker was shoving his wet hair back from his face. Bruce was rushing down the stairs, his arms filled with bath towels. Mrs. Walker was hurrying in from the kitchen with a roll of paper towels, her face creased with worry.
    “Oh, dear,” she was saying. “I hope the carpet doesn’t stain!”
    They were all so occupied that there was one thing they did not see. Andi saw it, and she opened her mouth to speak. Then, slowly, she closed it again.
I’m not going to say a word,
she thought, as the little brown dog with the long wet hair came scampering in the door between her father’s feet and scurried down the hall and up the stairs.

CHAPTER THREE
    At dinner that night Andi could not keep her attention on what was going on at the table. Conversation drifted around her, hardly touching her ears.
    The food on her plate sat there getting colder and colder until her mother said, “Earth to Andi! Are you off somewhere in space, honey? Is something the matter? Don’t you feel well?”
    “Oh, no — no — I feel fine.” Hurriedly, Andi picked up her fork and began to eat. “I was just thinking.”
    Actually she had not been thinking at all — she had been listening. The smell of roast beef on the serving platter rolled out in warm, mouthwatering waves through the lower part of the house.
How long would it be,
she wondered,
before the odor floated up the stairs to where a hungry dog was hiding? When it did, how long could he resist it?
    She could almost hear the click of toenails on the stairs as a bundle of wet hair came scurrying down to beg for some supper.
    Stay there,
she willed silently.
Stay there and wait a little longer. Andi will bring some dinner up to you soon.
    As though she were reading her daughter’s thoughts, Mrs. Walker said, “Andi is upset because she found a little stray dog this afternoon and I wouldn’t let her bring it into the house. She is so used to having her own dog around to play with that it is a little hard for her to understand that it’s just not possible here.”
    “Oh, mercy, no!” Aunt Alice raised her napkin to her face as though waving away the very thought of such a disaster. “I cannot get anywhere near animal hair. Even bird hair — I mean, feathers — I can’t have them in the house either. All my pillows are foam rubber.”
    “How about fish?” Bruce asked with interest. “Can you get near them?”
    “I don’t know,” Aunt