Ellie stopped and stared at the dog. It was round and funny-looking, all white with brown patches and a long pink tongue, but it had eyes like her teddy at home, all gentle.
She looked at the man on the park bench near the dog. He looked half-asleep with his arms folded as he leaned back. He wore funny dark glasses too, so Ellie didn't know if he was awake or not. Carefully she glanced back; Mama and Nurse were at the next bench, still talking, but Mama waved at her and that made Ellie smile.
"What's your dog's name?" Ellie asked politely. She liked dogs—well, most dogs. She didn't like Mr. Perington's dog Aldo, who growled at everybody through the fence in the yard.
The man didn't move, but he did speak, and his voice sounded faraway. "His name is Gladstone, and I am sure he would be delighted to clean up the traces of candy from your hands."
Ellie giggled, and came closer to the dog, who gave her a hopeful snuffle. She extended one hand towards him and the long pink tongue swiped gently along her wrist. It was a warm lick, and repeated quickly.
"He looks like a Gladstone," Ellie announced, holding out the other hand for cleaning. The dog made a point of getting between her fingers, delighted by the tasty opportunity. The man tipped his face down, and Ellie still couldn't see his eyes, but he seemed more awake now.
"Does he now? Do you know what a Gladstone is, young lady?"
"Yes sir. It's a doctor's purse," Ellie said confidently. She knew Doctor Harris had one and brought it when he came to see her or Mama. He was seeing Mama more now that she was getting . . . well, fatter.
"But you're not a doctor," she added.
The man looked at her again, the dark glasses twinkling in the morning sunshine. "Really. And how do you know I am not?"
"Because your hands aren't clean, and you don't have a pocketwatch. Doctors always have clean hands, even when they don't need to, and Doctor Harris told me that the most important toold for a doctor is his watch, for pulses and appointments."
The man seemed a little surprised, but Ellie giggled, tickled by the dog's determination to clean every inch of her fingers. His stumpy tail was wagging now.
"I see," the man murmured, looking at his own fingers for a second. "Are you a doctor?"
"No sir. My Da says I'm a bright one, but he won't say one of what," Ellie confessed, still focused on the dog. She petted him and he gave a contented sigh, making it clear that they were indeed good friends now. Possibly for life.
"Your Da is quite right," the man assured her. "You must give him my regards."
Ellie looked interested. "Then you know him."
"I do. How do you know that I know him?"
"'Cause regards are for people that know each other. If you didn't know my Da, you'd say give him my compliments and maybe your card," Ellie pointed out. "And you'd tell me your name. If you don't tell me your name and all I do is tell my Da about Gladstone, then Da would know who you are because he's a detective and he knows a very lot."
The man smiled, and even though Ellie still couldn't see his eyes, she smiled back, because it was almost a grin.
"Touché. Well done, Miss Lestrade. I think your father does know a very lot. But now Gladstone and I must be off, however—"the man glanced down at the dog, "He would be delighted to see you again at any time. Preferably after you have had candy."
Ellie giggled and watched the man rise, then gently tug on Gladstone's leash. The dog gave a mournful look at Ellie, then reluctantly trotted after the man, who gave Ellie a polite tip of his battered hat before heading off.
She watched them go, and Ellie wondered if Da would get her a Gladstone if she asked.