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up things, it’s his howling. From the minute you leave the house that animal howls to high heaven. The street is raised; people are complaining.’
    Again the three of them stood looking at each other. Then, his head drooping, Matty half turned away, only to pause. Bringing his head up again, he gazed deliberately at his father now and said, ‘I’m on sixteen and I can’t go campin’, and I’m not allowed to keep me dog, so don’t you be surprised if I want to do something else . . . like jumping a boat, say.’
    ‘You young . . . !’ His father’s advancing figure and his voice were checked by his mother crying, ‘Now that’s enough . . . Go and get yourself out, boy.’
    Matty was trembling when, with Nelson on a lead now, he followed his pals out of the backyard door, and he didn’t know whether it was with indignation at being treated like a small boy, or at Nelson’s coming fate, or because he had dared to stand up to his father. Perhaps it was a little of all three.

Chapter Two
     
    The boys walked slowly, dolefully discussing the failure of their plans for the summer holidays. At least Willie and Joe made their disappointment verbal, but Matty’s disappointment could find no outlet in words, because it probed beyond the fact that he was being done out of a holiday to the wider issue of being thought incapable of taking care of himself. Then there was Nelson. Nelson’s plight was of more importance at the moment than the holiday or anything else. As the other two boys chatted, his thoughts were dwelling on Joe’s proposal and he said now, ‘We could start up White Leas way.’
    ‘White Leas?’ repeated Willie. ‘What are we going to do up White Leas way?’
    ‘Joe here thought that somebody might take Nelson.’
    ‘Aye, I did.’ Joe nodded brightly. ‘It would be better than have him gassed the morrow.’
    ‘He’ll not be gassed.’ Matty turned on his pal. ‘Don’t say that. They stick a needle in them and put them to sleep; they’re not gassed.’
    ‘All right, all right. Eeh! You are in a tear. I only said . . . ’
    ‘I know what you said.’
    ‘You mean,’ said Willie, bending in front of Matty to look at Joe now, ‘you mean, go round the doors and ask?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Joe.
    ‘Good idea,’ said Willie. ‘But why White Leas? Why not go down Westoe?’
    ‘Use your napper,’ said Matty. ‘Westoe! Who’d take a stray dog down Westoe? They’re snooty down there; more likely set their dogs on you if you went to a gate. No, we’re going up White Leas.’
    ‘Aye,’ said Joe, ‘Matty is right. White Leas is best.’
    The first door they went to was painted yellow and had a bell, which Joe took upon himself to ring, his finger pressed tightly on it for some seconds. They were all in different states of nervousness as they waited, but when after some minutes there was no response to their ringing, it was evident there was no-one at home.
    ‘We’ll knock next door,’ said Willie.
    ‘No,’ said Matty, putting Nelson onto the pavement again.
    ‘Why for not?’ asked Joe.
    ‘Well, it looks scruffy,’ said Matty. His eyes were skimming over the doors as he spoke. Then he pointed. ‘There’s a nice one. It’s just been varnished and the house has got nice windows, nice curtains.’
    Again Joe rang a doorbell, and this time it was opened almost immediately by a little girl of about eight. ‘What do you want?’ she said, without any preamble.
    Joe and Willie remained silent, their gaze on Matty now, as he swallowed deeply before saying, ‘Is your ma in? Will you ask her if she wants a dog?’
    ‘A dog?’ The little girl’s voice was high and excited, and, looking at Nelson, she added, ‘Him!’
    ‘Aye. He’s a good dog,’ said Matty, ‘friendly like.’
    ‘Ma!’ The little girl was running back up the passage. They heard her voice gabbling to someone beyond the closed door, then a woman made her appearance. She was big and fat and seemed to fill the space