"Remember the Solomons," she pressed. "Remember the Ariel.
Remember when we came back from Malaita, where we picked Jerry up, to Tulagi, that he had a brother there, a nigger-chaser on a schooner.""And his name was Michael--go on."
"And he had that self-same crinkled ear," she hurried. "And he was rough-coated. And he was full brother to Jerry. And their father and mother were Terrence and Biddy of Meringe. And Jerry is our Sing Song Silly. And this dog sings. And he has a crinkled ear. And his name is Michael.""Impossible," said Harley.
"It is when the impossible comes true that life proves worth while," she retorted. "And this is one of those worth-whiles of impossibles. I know it."Still the man of him said impossible, and still the woman of her insisted that this was an impossible come true. By this time the dog on the stage was singing "God Save the King.""That shows I am right," Villa contended. "No American, in America, would teach a dog 'God Save the King.' An Englishman originally owned that dog and taught it. The Solomons are British.""That's a far cry," he smiled. "But what gets me is that ear. Iremember it now. I remember the day when we were on the beach at Tulagi with Jerry, and when his brother came ashore from the Eugenie in a whaleboat. And his brother had that self-same, loppy, crinkled ear.""And more," Villa argued. "How many singing dogs have we ever known! Only one--Jerry. Evidently such a type occurs rarely.
The same family would more likely produce similar types than different families. The family of Terrence and Biddy produced Jerry. And this is Michael.""He WAS rough-coated, along with a crinkly ear," Harley meditated back. "I see him distinctly as he stood up in the bow of the whaleboat and as he ran along the beach side by side with Jerry.""If Jerry should to-morrow run side by side with him you would be convinced?" she queried.