now. If they did find those others, those to whom Tim rightfully belonged, where would poor Peter be? Outside, among the puppies-Timothy Paul looked up and saw Peter Welles’s eyes on him. He smiled.
“You were my first friend, Peter, and you shall be forever,” said Tim. “No matter what, no matter who.”
“But we must look for the others,” said Peter.
“I’ll never forget who helped me,” said Tim.
An ordinary boy of thirteen may say such a thing sincerely, and a week later have forgotten all about it. But Peter Welles was content. Tim would never forget. Tim would be his friend always. Even when Timothy Paul and those like him should unite in a maturity undreamed of, to control the world if they chose, Peter Welles would be Tim’s friend—not a puppy, but a beloved friend—as a loyal dog loved by a good master, is never cast out.
