Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds 8
which dived instantly for Phryne’s discarded shoe and worried
it ferociously, pinning down the unresisting pump with one tiny
paw and obviously intending to teach it something—probably,
Phryne thought, how not to be a shoe.
‘No, Molly, we don’t eat shoes. No,’ chided Ruth, removing
it before the puppy’s milk teeth could scar the black kid. To
her amazement, the puppy relinquished its prey, put its ears on
alert, and appeared to obey. It was, Phryne realized, waiting for
something. Ruth gave it a very small bit of dog biscuit and it
licked her hand.
‘That’s very good,’ said Phryne.
‘She has to live with us,’ explained Ruth earnestly. ‘So she
can’t make a mess of our things.’
‘And you’ve given her a name,’ said Phryne, putting both
shoes into the rack out of temptation’s way. Even puppies who
were resolved to be good could be distracted from the way by a
really luscious kid upper.
‘Jane named her.’
‘Why “Molly”, Jane?’ asked Phryne, watching in fascination
as Ember corralled the small dog and washed its face.
‘She looks like a Molly,’ said Jane positively. ‘We came to
ask, can we go to Rebecca Levin’s house today? She’s invited us
for afternoon tea.’
‘Yes, and pay attention to anything said about Zionism, the
Messiah, an old man called Rabbi Elijah, or the murder in the Eastern
Market. Are you lunching with me? Bert and Cec are coming.’
‘Yes, Miss Phryne,’ they chorused. Then, observing a certain
contemplative look on Molly’s face, the two girls rushed the
puppy downstairs into the garden, with Ember streaking after
via the bannister. He had found out how to do this by accident,
slipping down fast, all paws together and tail outstretched for
balance, and Phryne suspected that he was showing off.
Obscurely cheered by their undemanding company, Phryne
finished dressing and descended to the dining room where,
by the sound of masculine conversation, Albert and Cecil had
arrived.