Daily during the next week, he arose resolved to tackle Mrs. Crump without further delay, but the resolution, faced with practical problems, always diminished and was sooner or later appeased with a promise of action tomorrow. In the meantime, however, he was developing psychosomatic pains in his arms and legs, as well as in his nose and jaw, and at last he forced himself into the neighborhood of Grandfather’s house. Irresolute, filled with the most dreadful forebodings, he idled along the iron picket fence, staring moodily at the ugly old shack, and once he lowered himself to his haunches and peered this way and that through the pickets. It had occurred to him that he might surprise Senorita Fogarty at play on the lawn. If so, and if she could be lured within reach, it would be possible to simplify matters by direct action, thus circumventing Mrs. Crump herself. But this was, of course, no more than wishful thinking. In the first place, Senorita Fogarty, as the world’s richest Chihuahua, would surely not be permitted to gambol unrestrained on the grass like any common mutt.
