"It IS in a mess." Then to their astonishment the dog turned back and, sauntering down the road again as though it had nothing all day to do but to wander about, and as though it were not wet, shivering and hungry, it once more smelt the gate.
"Oh," said Mary and Jeremy together.
"It's like Mother," said Jeremy, "when she's going to see someone and isn't sure whether it's the right house." Then, most marvellous of unexpected climaxes, the dog suddenly began to squeeze itself between the bottom bar of the gate and the ground.

The interval was fortunately a large one; a moment later the animal was in the Coles' garden.
The motives that led Jeremy to behave as he did are uncertain.

It may have been something to do with the general boredom of the afternoon, it may have been that he felt pity for the bedraggled aspect of the animal--most probable reason of all, was that devil-may-care independence flung up from the road, as it were, expressly at himself.
The dog obviously did not feel any great respect for the Cole household.
He wandered about the garden, sniffing and smelling exactly as though the whole place belonged to him, and a ridiculous stump of tail, unsubdued by the weather, gave him the ludicrous dignity of a Malvolio.
"I'm going down," whispered Jeremy, flinging a cautious glance at Helen who was absorbed in her sewing.
Mary's eyes grew wide with horror and admiration.

"You're not going out," she whispered.

"In the snow.