The hound’s grandfather.
Motherdidnotgetbacktoherwritingallthatday,forthered-jerseyedhoundwhomthechildrenhadbroughttoThreeChimneyshadtobeputtobed.AndthentheDoctorcame,andhurthimmosthorribly.Motherwaswithhimallthroughit,andthatmadeitalittlebetterthanitwouldhavebeen,but"badwasthebest,"asMrs.Vineysaid.
ThechildrensatintheparlourdownstairsandheardthesoundoftheDoctor’sbootsgoingbackwardsandforwardsoverthebedroomfloor.Andonceortwicetherewasagroan.
"It’shorrible,"saidBobbie."Oh,IwishDr.Forrestwouldmakehaste.Oh,poorJim!"
"ItIShorrible,"saidPeter,"butit’sveryexciting.IwishDoctorsweren’tsostuck-upaboutwhothey’llhaveintheroomwhenthey’redoingthings.Ishouldmostawfullyliketoseealegset.Ibelievethebonescrunchlikeanything."
"Don’t!"saidthetwogirlsatonce.
"Rubbish!"saidPeter."HowareyougoingtobeRedCrossNurses,likeyouweretalkingofcominghome,ifyoucan’tevenstandhearingmesayaboutbonescrunching?You’dhavetoHEARthemcrunchonthefieldofbattle—andbesteepedingoreuptotheelbowsaslikelyasnot,and—"
"Stopit!"criedBobbie,withawhiteface;"youdon’tknowhowfunnyyou’remakingmefeel."
"Me,too,"saidPhyllis,whosefacewaspink.
"Cowards!"saidPeter.
"I’mnot,"saidBobbie.