The pups were in the scullery and Mattie sat amidst them on the floor as they frolicked about her looking like animated snowballs. Their mother watched them closely, but Daphne came over and hummed to her, scratching her behind her ear, and the dog relaxed. Coquette’s coloring was more varied than Pompom’s, as she sported dark tan ears, a pattern carried over onto some of the pups. Most of them left Mattie to mock-fight among themselves, but one, the smallest of the litter, ran at Mattie, pounced on her gown, then jumped off. He hunkered down on his chest with his bottom in the air, tail wagging as he yipped in joyful play. Mattie scooped the little clown up and covered him in kisses as he squirmed in her hands and tried to lick and bite at her chin. She looked up at them then, her blue eyes wide over the dog’s head. “Oh look, Papa! Look, Miss Burke! It is our puppy!” Lydia leaned over and said in St. Armand’s ear, “ I am not going to tell her she can’t have that puppy.” --The Pira...