The Devil's Advocate by Fred M. White

Philippa would have been hard put to it to explain why she set so much store by the damp and mouldy rag that Bragger had unearthed. After all, there was nothing in the fact that the dog had turned up this evil-smelling piece of serge, for Bragger had taken many walks with Philippa, and most of the time he was in the habit of finding some rubbish that apparently he was proud to lay at her feet. But on this occasion his manner and air of general excitement, to say nothing of his rage, appealed to the girl's romantic instinct. She was not in the least interested in the coat as a coat, for apparently it was long past wearing, but even now Bragger would not behave as a respectable dog should do, and it took Philippa all her time to keep him at arm's length. He seemed to forget that he was with a friend, and indeed once or twice Philippa had fairly to beat him off with such violence as she dared.

Finally he crept doggedly behind her with his tail down, and the air of one who is resigned to the inevitable, and recognises the fact that he is in the presence of a superior force, the stupidity of which is altogether too much for him. He followed sulkily, then, with his stump of a tail down, and a general expression of absolute contempt for humanity as a whole. So Philippa carried the coat, more or less at arm's length, across the common, and, just before she entered the high road, she came in contact with Philp.