For no reason that he could explain even to himself, he recurred to it continually.

He questioned Hilma minutely all about the dog.

Who owned him?
How old did she think he was?
Did she imagine the dog was sick?
Where had he got to?
Maybe he had crawled off to die somewhere.

He recurred to the subject all through the meal; apparently, he could talk of nothing else, and as she finally went away after clearing off the table, he went onto the porch and called after her: "Say, Miss Hilma." "Yes, sir." "If that dog turns up again you let me know." "Very well, sir." Annixter returned to the dining-room and sat down in the chair he had just vacated.

"To hell with the dog!" he muttered, enraged, he could not tell why.
When at length he allowed his attention to wander from Hilma Tree, he found that he had been staring fixedly at a thermometer upon the wall opposite, and this made him think that it had long been his intention to buy a fine barometer, an instrument that could be accurately depended on.