"I wouldn't trust this high-mindedness," retorted Tilly, wrinkling up
her forehead.

"Now, Tilly, you don't mean that,--you don't mean that you've come all
the way from naughty New York to find such dreadful faults in nice,
primmy New England. The very dogs here are above such things. Look at
Punch there making friends with that little plebeian yellow dog."

"And look at Dandy barking at everybody who isn't well dressed," laughed
Tilly, pointing to a handsome collie, who was vigorously giving voice to
his displeasure at the approach of a workman in shabby clothing.

The Robson girls and Will Wentworth joined in Tilly's laugh; but Agnes
Brendon, who could never see a joke, looked disgusted, and glancing at
the little yellow dog, asked petulantly,--

"Whose dog is it?"

"It belongs to the girl who sits at the corner table," answered Will
Wentworth, "and its name is Pete. I heard the girl call him this
morning."

"What a horrid, vulgar name!" exclaimed Agnes. "It suits the dog,
though; and the people, I suppose, are--"

"Oh, Agnes, look at that horrid worm on your dress!"

Agnes jumped up in a panic, screaming, "Where, where?"