"At any rate, get a
bucket of water."
"Better let me take him," I volunteered helplessly, for I was
unfamiliar with fits.
"No; it's all right," she answered. "I'll take charge of him. The
cold water is what he needs. He got too close to the coop, and a
peck on the nose frightened him into the fit."
"First time I ever heard of a fit coming that way," Mr. Pike
remarked, as he poured water over the puppy under Miss West's
direction. "It's just a plain puppy fit. They all get them at sea."
"I think it was the sails that caused it," I argued. "I've noticed
that he is very afraid of them. When they flap, he crouches down in
terror and starts to run. You noticed how he ran with his head
turned back?"
"I've seen dogs with fits do that when there was nothing to frighten
them," Mr. Pike contended.
"It was a fit, no matter what caused it," Miss West stated
conclusively. "Which means that he has not been fed properly. From
now on I shall feed him. You tell your boy that, Mr. Pathurst.
Nobody is to feed Possum anything without my permission.
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