When Abby was finished, she plucked the pug from the tub and wrapped her up in a towel like a sausage in a bun. Then she attacked Penelope’s nails with trimmers until they were properly clipped and brushed her coat with brisk strokes until it shone. And while Penelope did enjoy a brush behind the ears now and then, having all her fur brushed was not her favorite experience, to say the least. But all was forgiven when Abby held up a looking glass. The little pug gazed at her reflection and could not deny that she liked what she saw.

  “So,” Abby said to the pug, “was it really as bad as all that?”

  Penelope looked at her, unsure. Being clean was not an unpleasant sensation, but if that was how Abby gave a dog a bath, it was something she would happily skip for the rest of her days!

  * * *

  Penelope followed the maid’s quickly moving heels through the house.

  “That’s the dressing room,” Abby said as they passed a room filled with Lady Diggleton’s dresses. “I have to clean that.”

  “That’s the kitchen,” she said as they passed a large oven that gave off warm smells, making Penelope’s tummy growl. “I don’t have to clean that.”

  “And this,” she said as she opened a door, “is the garden, where dogs do their business.”

  Oh, but Penelope was ever so relieved to be let out. She really did have a lot of business to do!

  “I’ll definitely have to clean that,” Abby said with a grumble when Penelope was done. “As if I don’t have enough to do.”

  Back inside, Penelope followed Abby down a long hall, where her eyes were drawn to a painted portrait of a kind-looking gentleman in a pale green velvet coat. Noticing her stare, Abby stopped a moment.

  “That is Lord Diggleton,” she said. “When he died in that horrible carriage accident last year, I thought my lady would perish of a broken heart.”

  Penelope stared at the portrait and felt something familiar—the feeling of losing someone you love. And yet, she thought, there are some things that cannot be changed, no matter how deeply the heart wants otherwise. Even though she was just a pug, she did understand such things, you see.

  “Well,” Abby said, smoothing down her dress, “enough of this dawdling about. Lady Diggleton is waiting.”

  At the sound of Lady Diggleton’s name, Penelope remembered her kindness the night before, and how cozy it was to fall asleep in her lap. But she was nervous, too. Will Lady Diggleton really help me find my Lady? she wondered. And what will become of me if she won’t?

  Chapter Six

  Lady Diggleton liked to have her breakfast at a long table in a dining room with high windows and a sparkling chandelier that reminded Penelope of the stars.

  “Good morning, Penelope,” she said to the pug when she appeared in the doorway. “Come in! Your breakfast is waiting.”

  Breakfast? For me? This was enough to get Penelope to run across the room and jump right into Lady Diggleton’s lap!

  “Bad dog! No!” sputtered Abby.

  “Well,” Lady Diggleton said, looking at Penelope and laughing, “this is a surprise. But I find I’m not opposed.”

  Breakfast consisted of a little silver bowl that was filled to the brim with kitchen scraps of the finest quality—bits of crisp potatoes, fresh peas, and salted ham—while her water was clear and cool. Penelope ate and drank until her tummy was quite full, then she burped a little pug burp.

  “My, you were hungry,” Lady Diggleton said, reaching for a crystal jar. She took out not one but two freshly baked dog biscuits, which she’d asked the cook, Miss Bakerbeans, to prepare that morning. She gently held out her hand and offered them to Penelope. Ever so happy, the pug gobbled them up and licked her lips to catch every crumb, then gave Lady Diggleton a kiss right on the tip of her nose!

  “Now, that’s going a bit too far,” said Abby.

  “You know, I found I rather enjoyed it!” said Lady Diggleton.

  “Have it your way,” Abby said, turning to go. “I have so much work to do.”

  “And we have a mystery to solve, isn’t that so, Penelope?” Lady Diggleton said. “You have a collar, which means that you have an owner. And since your collar is well made, I do believe your owner must have the means to live somewhere quite near. So here’s what we shall do: We’ll knock on every door in Mayfair until we find your home!”

  Hearing this, Penelope’s hopes soared. Being reunited with her Lady would be wonderful indeed! But then her thoughts took a darker turn: What if her Lady didn’t want her anymore? For Penelope could not get the thought out of her mind—how did she know her Lady was looking for her?

  “Don’t worry, Penelope,” Lady Diggleton said, scratching the pug behind her left ear. (Which happened to be her favorite spot and sent her right leg kicking, fur flying everywhere in a way that would have made Abby most displeased.) “I have a feeling this will not be so very difficult. We shall find your Lady today if it’s the last thing we do!”

  Chapter Seven

  Lady Diggleton did not own a leash, so she cleverly attached a short leather horse lead to Penelope’s collar. “Are you ready?” she said.

  Penelope wagged her tail.

  “Then let’s go!”

  Lady Diggleton and Penelope stepped out into the bright noonday sun. The pug didn’t know precisely where they were, but I can tell you that they were in the most fashionable neighborhood in London. There were many well-dressed people on Grosvenor Street that day, but Penelope could hardly see more than the bottoms of skirts, trousers, slippers, and boots. She didn’t mind, for the air was filled with the most delightful smells—those of horses, people, cobblestones, and brick. Eventually, she caught a glimpse of the surrounding homes, which were painted in bright white with tall windows and imposing doors. The houses marched up the street in an orderly fashion, and many of them looked curiously the same. But for the life of her, Penelope could not recall if she’d ever lived in a home so grand.

  Isn’t it strange that a dog would not be able to remember what her own home looks like? This is because dogs do not find where they live by sight, but by smell. So as Lady Diggleton walked up the street, her head held high and her chestnut hair glinting in the sun, Penelope put her nose to the ground, sniffing for anything that smelled familiar, yet nothing did.

  At the first door, Lady Diggleton knocked, and Penelope sat at her feet, nervous and excited. A footman wearing a blue coat with shiny buttons answered.

  “Hello,” Lady Diggleton said. “Could you tell me if you’ve ever seen this pug?”

  The footman considered the pug and shook his head. “Sadly not, my lady,” he said.

  “Quite all right!” said Lady Diggleton brightly as the door snapped shut. She looked down at Penelope. “Don’t despair. One could hardly expect the first house to be the one. On we go.”

  They walked to the next house, and once again Lady Diggleton knocked on the door. Penelope tried to keep calm as a footman wearing a black coat with shiny buttons answered. “Hello,” Lady Diggleton said. “Could you tell me if you’ve ever seen this pug?”

  He looked down at Penelope and frowned. “I must say I have not, my lady.”

  They walked down the steps, and Lady Diggleton said, “Of course, expecting the second house to be the one would be far too easy.”

  But then she knocked on the next door, and the one after that, and too many to count after that, and the answer was always the same.

  “Sorry, my lady.”

  “No, my lady.”

  “I’m afraid not, my lady.”

  Penelope’s paws began to ache, and Lady Diggleton’s brightness began to fade. She sat down on a park bench in Grosvenor Square, and Penelope lay miserably at her feet.

  “I’m sorry, Penelope,” said Lady Diggleton. “I truly believed we would find your home today. But I was wrong.”

  Penelope peered up at Lady Diggleton, eyes filled with sadness. She’d long feared she would never find her Lady, but that fear seemed to be hardening into fact.

  Sensing her despair, Lady Diggleton picked up the little pug and placed her in her lap.

  “I have also felt grief and loss,” she said. “And it stung all the more because I could not say a final goodbye to my dear husband. One moment he was getting in a carriage, and then he was gone. I felt ever so much sorrow. But life goes on in the most difficult of times, just as it does in the most wonderful.”

  Penelope sighed. She appreciated Lady Diggleton’s words, but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend the rest of her days without a Lady to call her own. For a pug without a Lady was like a sock without a foot, or a bone without a dog. Whatever would she do?

  Chapter Eight

  The sun rose bright and happy, but Penelope stayed in bed. Her tummy was empty, yet she had no desire to eat. Her mouth was dry, yet she had no desire to drink. Her spirits were low indeed, and if you have ever been so unhappy, then you know that staying in bed is the only sensible thing to do. Every now and again, Abby would peer in and eye the floor where Penelope had been shedding—she’d have to clean that, of course—but she said nothing.

  It was after eleven when Lady Diggleton entered the room and said, “There you are, Penelope! It’s time to get up, for we are going to tea!”

  Tea? thought Penelope, her ears perking up. As in a tea “party”?

  She’d seen children playing tea party in the park, so of course she understood exactly what this was. Tea parties involved playing, chasing one another around, a fine meal of tasty sandwiches and biscuits, and frolicking. Oh, Penelope had always wanted to go to tea! And now she finally would.

  * * *

  Penelope’s tail did not stop wagging the entire way up Brook Street. As she and Lady Diggleton climbed the steps of another grand house, she could barely contain her excitement. A footman in a yellow coat with a powdered wig opened the door. He then led them to a yellow sitting room where Penelope recognized the one person in the world she would rather not see, and who would rather not see her. “My dear Lady Diggleton!” Lady Picklebottom exclaimed. “I see you’ve brought that stray dog with you!”

  “I have indeed,” said Lady Diggleton, entering a drawing room with walls covered in yellow fabric so bright that it stung the eye. “While I know how you feel about dogs, I do believe you will enjoy Penelope’s company as much as I do.”

  “Well, I know so little about animals, of course,” Lady Picklebottom said, motioning for Lady Diggleton to sit in a bright yellow chair. “But a dog, in my most humble opinion, does do best on a farm.”

  She leaned down to Penelope, saying loudly, “Wouldn’t you adore that? To live on a farm?”

  It was all Penelope could do not to growl as she jumped into Lady Diggleton’s lap. At this, Lady Picklebottom raised an eyebrow—allowing a dog to sit on one’s lap was, in her eyes, very disturbing indeed. But more guests were arriving, and so she decided to say nothing of it.

  Soon several ladies were seated around the room, and Penelope prepared herself to be showered with biscuits and affection.

  However, to her surprise and dismay, the women ignored her completely! They simply talked, and talked, and talked. They chittered the way birds sang in the trees. They chattered the way chipmunks did in the bushes. They did not stop chittering or chattering as one moment stretched into the next.

  Penelope was confused. Wasn’t a tea party supposed to be fun? And as for whether the biscuits on the table were as delicious as they smelled, well, Penelope didn’t know, as none were offered to her. Penelope grew weary just sitting there. But when Lady Diggleton gave her a small pat on the head and said, “You’re being a very good pug, Penelope,” she allowed herself a satisfied sigh. If Lady Diggleton was happy, then Penelope was prepared to endure the dullest tea party in all the world.

  She was just falling asleep when she noticed it: a flash of red fur, just beyond the window, and the sound of rustling leaves. Then Penelope saw the flicker of a suspicious black eye, followed by a ragged tail, and buckteeth.

  It was Dreadful Squirrel!

  But before Penelope could so much as bark, he dashed through Lady Picklebottom’s open window and snatched a raspberry tart right off the cart!

  This simply would not do!

  Barking wildly, Penelope lunged for Dreadful Squirrel, who ran across the cart, sending biscuits, tarts, and tea sandwiches flying into the air. The squirrel grinned his terrible grin and chittered, “If you want this tasty morsel back, you’ll have to come and get it!”

  “Challenge accepted!” Penelope barked in return, racing after him as he leaped from the dessert cart to the lavender sofa to the drapes. Over the tea table they went, under the desk, behind a screen, and through the ashes in the fireplace.

  Lady Picklebottom’s drawing room was soon destroyed, and then Penelope chased Dreadful Squirrel

  right

  out

  the

  open

  window.

  The ladies rushed to see what would happen next. Oh, but it was not a pretty sight! Penelope, in her haste, had flung herself out the window and soared after Dreadful Squirrel as though she could fly. It turned out, however, that she could not.

  This is how the ladies found Penelope in the bushes below, with her bottom in the air, and the rest of her stuck in a hedgerow. Struggling to free herself, Penelope wriggled and wiggled until she was able to pop her head out of the bush with a leaf stuck on her nose. As she looked at it cross-eyed, Lady Diggleton could not hold it in any longer—she started to laugh and laugh.

  But the other ladies were not amused.

  “Goodness me, what’s wrong with that pug?” exclaimed Lady Barton.

  “And what’s wrong with that squirrel?” said Lady Pemberley.

  “You must find the dog’s owner at once,” insisted Lady Donwell.

  “Just send her away to a farm!” yelled Lady Picklebottom. “And you, my dear friend,” she said, turning to Lady Diggleton. “What is it that you find so funny? Is it my shattered teapot? My destroyed drawing room? I don’t understand your behavior at all!”

  Lady Diggleton apologized most sincerely for all the damage done, promising to pay for everything. Then she checked Penelope for thorns, of which, thankfully, there were none. As they walked home, Penelope tried not to whimper. She had ruined the tea party, something Lady Picklebottom would not soon forgive, and embarrassed Lady Diggleton, too. Surely she would be sent away now, whether Lady Diggleton found her original Lady or not.

  And the worst part of all was that she’d become rather fond of Lady Diggleton. Rather fond indeed.

  Chapter Nine

  Oh, poor Penelope! If there ever was a pug in a more disappointing situation, one cannot imagine it.

  In the morning, she met Lady Diggleton for breakfast, but this time she could not bear to jump into her lap and felt certain Lady Diggleton wouldn’t want her to.

  A footman entered to announce that they had a visitor, and when Penelope smelled Lady Picklebottom, she scooted further under Lady Diggleton’s chair.

  “My poor, dear friend!” Lady Picklebottom said as she entered the room. “I am so sorry for my outburst yesterday. A case of nerves, you see, brought on by ever so much excitement. Despite what I said, I must assure you, Lady Diggleton, that a ruined tea means little to me. My grandmother’s china was smashed to bits, of course, but that hardly matters. What matters is that our friendship remains intact, as it has since our families introduced us at the tender age of four!”

  Lady Diggleton opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Picklebottom continued.

  “As your friend, I must say I have become more than a little worried, for you do not seem like yourself lately. It’s almost as though you prefer the dog’s company to mine, but that’s impossible!” Lady Picklebottom laughed. “And so, I have decided to take on this pug business myself. Before you protest, Lady Diggleton, do know that I shall not change my mind! Your very place in society is at stake!”

  Lady Picklebottom put a stack of papers on the table.

  “What’s all that?” asked Lady Diggleton, alarmed.

  “Shall I read it to you?”

  Lady Diggleton nodded as Lady Picklebottom cleared her throat more loudly than one would consider polite, not that Penelope was in any position to judge such things now.

  “LOST PUG!” Lady Picklebottom began to shout. “A LOST PUG WHO GOES BY THE NAME OF ‘PENELOPE’ HAS BEEN FOUND IN PUGGLETON PARK! IF SHE BELONGS TO YOU, PLEASE CONTACT LADY PICKLEBOTTOM AT 501 SOUR PATCH LANE AT ONCE!”

  “I plan to have my footman place these flyers all over London,” Lady Picklebottom said. “Pall Mall, both Oxford and Bond Streets, not to mention Puggleton Park itself. Surely someone will know the dog, and then you can return to a life of peace and quiet—and I will have the friend I know returned to me, for you can’t get rid of me so easily! Now, you may think this is not what you want, but you must trust me in times like these, for only I know what you truly need.”

  “But—” said Lady Diggleton.

  “My mind will not be changed, dear friend!” said Lady Picklebottom, getting excited again. “YOU REALLY MUST HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET!”

  The pug’s tail drooped as Lady Diggleton sighed.

  Lady Picklebottom was so very overbearing, she didn’t know how Lady Diggleton withstood it. Perhaps people have different kinds of friends, Penelope thought. The kind you wish to keep, and the kind that stick to you like fleas.

 

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